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THE

MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

BY

HEIOIT LYTTLEJOHN.

VOL. n.

LONDON:
ROBERT JOHN BUSH, 32, CHARING CROSS, S.W.

1870.

JlS^o . oc

//*

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

CHAPTER I.

" Their graces in the state rooms^ I suppose P "
said Lady de Crecy's housekeeper, to whom the
mistress of Tinselby was giving her commands a
day or two before the arrival of the party.

** Yes : Lady Selina in the blue chintz, and the
Seabrights next the chapel."

" Is Mr. Evans coming, my lady P "
" Certainly: put him in the tower."
" 'Mongst all them fusty old books, my lady !
La! I wouldn't sleep there for anything. I'm

VOL. II, 1

/'

41

*

^ THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

sure the place is haunted; Jane says she hears the
groanings every night."

*' The creakings of the weathercock^ you silly
woman. As for the books, they are just what Mr.
Evans likes.'*

" And the other gentlemen — Sir Percy Froth
and Lord St. Kitts, and Mr. Wharton, where are
they to be, mum P "

" Anywhef e — ^in the bachelors' rooms."
" And the marquis too, my lady ? "
*' Well, no : I think you had better give Lord
Northern the South Tapestry. Are the new sofa
and arm-chair come P Ob, and now I remember
it, have the folding-screen moved there from my
sitting-room ; and bid the carpenter take the ' Shep-
herdess' down and hang the ' Raphael ' from my
boudoir in its place. I'm afraid the room wants
a deal of altering to make it comfortable, Spicer."

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. O

"Do you think so, my ladyp why, it's the
beautifullest bedroom in the house. There's no-
thing splendider at Tramways I'm sure ; and as to
the pictures, the 'Shepherdess' is worth any
Eaphael, least- ways to my thinking whatsumever,

and I expect his lordship will agree with me."
"Never mind what lie may think, but do as I
direct you. And have the fire lighted in the room
at once, and keep an eye to it youlrself, Spicer."

" Let me alone for that, my lady, I'll take care
the marquis shall be comfortable. He was always
a pet of mine ever since he was in frocks, bless
him ! I never saw the like of him for dried apri-
cots and damson cheese, when he come home from
school that was, and Miss Helen Seabright and
him used to romp about together. To think they
sLould be growed up ! Ah, well ! They do say
Miss Seabright is to be the marchioness before

4 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

long, has your ladyship heard tell of it P Indeed!
Well T hope so too, my lady, they'll make a hand-
some couple, wont they P Though it's a splendid
match for her, which everyone must think so."

The housekeeper rattled on with the privilege
of an old domestic. Perhaps her mistress had no
objection to the theme : perhaps (our servants
know so much) the housekeeper was aware of this.

The latter being dismissed, Lady de Crecy not
long after was standing, like a statue, in her bou-
doir, facing the picture which she had ordered to
be brought there. It was a portrait of herself in
costume. The resemblance between the original
and the effigy was still striking. Still, we say,
because the portrait had been taken five years ago,
two years i.e. before her marriage. And though
the likeness was unmistakable, a change was also
manifest. From the canvas beamed the brilliant

THE MIDLANDS AND 0THEK8. O

and sparkling face of a girl of eighteen, piquante
and saucy with conscious beauty. The lady who
gazed upon it was no less beautiful, but her beauty
was of a diflferent order. The five years' interval
had mellowed all her charms. The figure was
fuller, the complexion richer, though less trans-
lucent, and (this the greatest change) the expres-
sion was now grave, and even melancholy.

Lady de Crecy fixed her eyes upon the picture
until they overflowed with tears. Her musings
shaped themselves into something like the follow-
ing. "Five years ago that happy girl was
dressed for her first court ball; her partner for
the evening, the man whom she believed would
be her partner for life. Well might she wear
that happy look ! Yet not if she had read the
future : that was not to be what she expected .
instead of it, sorrow and disappointment^ no hope'

6 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

and endless trial. Whose has been the fault? Was
it mine, or was it his P Why did I not many that
evening's partner? why did I marry Lord de
Crecy ? The choice was all my own. I obeyed my
conscience ; and this is my reward ! But was it
conscience, and no other motive that I acted on ?
Dreadful question, I dare not answer honestly. If
such a thought were once admitted, regret would
grow insufferable. No, I acted upon principle ;
my judgment was biassed by no unworthy motive ;
I wished only to do what was right. Alas ! how
wofully I erred. The husband I chose is not the
saint I took him for: the husband I rejected might
not have been the sinner. They lied to me : they
deceived me : and who so shamefully as Lord de
Crecy ! * * How pretty that girl's face is : no
wonder they make a fuss about her. Could I have
ever been like that? so fresh, so lovely as that

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 7

shepherd girlP How I must have altered — and
yet — he does not think so. The world tells me I am
handsome still. This glass says so too. Fool ! is
that what you are smiling at P What to me is
beauty now ? What to me is admiration ? Am
I young P Am I beautiful P Have I more talent,
better taste than other women P What are they
worth to me P I may not be loved. I may never
love. Beauty, talent, every gift of nature, must
be an instrument of torment to me. Wealth to
tantalize, but to be enjoyed by none. Next to the
bliss of enriching one craving heart with all this
superfluity, would be the peace of death's dis-
figurement. Were I ugly, had I no attractions,
did I not tempt others to tempt me, how pure and
calm might be life. And now, poor wretch ! to
think how much I have to give but mocks me
with my bitter poverty. * • The picture is

8 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

better here. It would not comfort me to aggravate
his trouble. He need not be reminded of the
past. Perhaps he is beginning to forget it. He
promised he would try, and, after this long inter-
val, to propose this visit looks as though he had
gained the strength he sought for. Pray Heaven
it may be so ! These rumours too about his mar-
riage with Helen Seabright, are they true I won-
der P To-morrow I shall know — ^in a moment I
shall know : his manner to me in her presence —
to her in mine. Fancy his marrying that girl !
of all women the least suited to him. So flighty
— so fast ! She never could appreciate him, nor
he content himself with her. * * Happiness !
In real life there is none."

The following day the party came. The De
Crecys had invited the Midlands and their com-
pany. St. Kitts, the Lanyards, Froth, and Whar-

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. \)

ton, were all friends of the De Crecys. The two
great houses were so closely allied by intermar-
riage and juxtaposition, that most of their acquain-
tances were common. For the shooting season it
often happened that the party at both places was
nearly the same. On this occasion there were
only one or two additions to the guests we met at
Tramways ; amongst them was a Mr. Evans, a
single gentleman of fortime, and a special favourite
of Lady de Crecy ; a Mrs. Finch, a widow, and
one or two county neighbours.
, One evening soon after her arrival, the Duchess
of Midland, whose ideas at present were limited
to one subject, took an opportunity to broach this
to her hostess.

" How charmingly pink suits her," whispered
her grace, fondly glancing at Miss Helen; this
young lady was conversing with her son.

10 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

" Yes/' says her friend, ambiguously ; " she is
so very fair."

" And so pretty/' adds the duchess.

" She is improved by her London season."

" She was very much admired."

" Was she P "

" Immensely ! she was asked every whei^. Of
course people exaggerate, but she is looked upon
as an heiress too ; which is always thought a good
deal of, you know." The duchess gave a little
nod to signify her superior knowledge of the
world.

" Did any one in particular admire her P " asks
Lady de Crecy, with a languid manner and a
quickened pulse.

" Oh yes, a good many young men were smitten
with her. I heard of several."

" No one more than the rest I suppose P "

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 11

" Indeed there was/' replied her grace ; " the
young gentleman talking to the duke, for instance."

" Lord St. Kitts P ''

" Yes, and another also in this room," glancing
at Sir Percy, " and Selina says that Captain Mar-
rum — Lord Sands' son — ^made her an offer. But
between ourselves," the duchess spoke behind her
fan, "I think Nelly has lost her heart elsewhere."

" To Mr. Wharton, you mean P I suspected that*
this long time," says the other.

"No, dear, not to Wharton, to — but do you
really think, my love, that Mr. Wharton is the
man P I have often thought so too, do you know ;
but Selina is so very confident she is iprise with
Northern ! "

Lady de Crecy smiled at her friend's ingenuous-
ness. " Well, duchess," she said, " you have had
more opportunities of judging than I have. I

12 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHEBS.

own I looked upon it as a thing to be. The
gentleman was to have been here to-day ; but I
have just received a note from him excusing him-
self, somewhat abruptly, on the score of urgent
business abroad. Perhaps Helen knows about
it, she seems rather out of sorts — ^not so brisk
and full of spirits as usual."

" Poor thing ! " sighed the elderly lady. " I do
wish Northern and she — I mean — it would do so
well— don't you think P "

"You dear old woman," thought Lady de
Crecy ; " even to me you can't help being honest.' '
"Admirably!" this fair hypocrite replied.

" I am so glad you think so, Daisy dear,"
and the duchess gave her neighbour's hand a
confidential little squeeze, and accompanied it
with a look of warm affection.

Was there ever such a simple creature as this

ITIE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 13

duchess P At that moment she was as certain as
conld be that Selina's stories about dear Northern
and dear Daisy were absolutely groundless. She
was perfectly convinced that dear Daisy's interest
in dear Northern was as unselfish and as pure as
that of his fond mother. And yet a single moment
of reflection must have shattered these convic-
tions to pieces. How could her grace mistake
the signs of which she had so often been an acci-
dental witness P Did she not observe with a woman's
eye how little notice Northern took of Helen
Seabright P His whole attention was absorbed in
the lady of the house. She saw how gloomy and
abstracted he would be when that lady was
away ; and how sometimes both of them appeared
unhappy. Why, she had once come suddenly
upon them, and found her son holding Viscountess
de Crecy's hand. The latter's eyes were so red

14 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHEKS.

and swollen they almost brought the tears into her
own. Could the duchess be mistaken P Even
Lord de Crecy's manner was enough to banish all
illusions. Daisy's husband made no attempt
apparently to hide his jealous rage. To his wife
he was sometimes peevish and insolent before
everyone; and to Lord Northern, distant, rude,
and shy. The duchess could not blind herself to
such symptoms; and when her thoughts were
directed to them the poor old lady was in despair.
It was the weakness of her character to sympathize
with everyone. She was heartily sorry for Lord de
Crecy, and looked upon him as an object of true
pity. Naturally, she was unhappy for her son; and
as she loved Daisjr she compassionated her too. So
far there was no harm done : bu!) what, alas ! she
must be blamed for, is — she could not for the life
of her help wishing — yet why should I calum-

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 15

niate thee, dear honest soiil ! long since hast thou
accounted for this and aU thy little trespasses.
And if there were none more weighty than thy
secret wishes for the joy of others, may he be
whipped who'd ever dream of blaming thee !

And now, what need to tell the reader how
sadly these young people were entangled ? Are not
Lady Selina's schemes intelligible ? Are they not
most praiseworthy P Let Mr. Wharton console
himself. Let Mombrun and Miss Lavinia rejoice.
Miss Helen has no more chance of being a duchess
than you or I have. I tell you this young mar-
quis is just as furious as he ever was. Neither
America nor absence have done him one jot of
good. This visit to Tinselby is ruining him com-
pletely : and talking of ruin, what will happen to
Daisy? Poor Daisy! we shall presently have
occasion to relate how she happens to be in this

/

16 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

unlucky plight; at present we must guard her
from those suspicions which our mismanagement or
the reader's purity might otherwise give birth to.
Yes, madam, I am happy to inform you that up to
this point, Daisy is as pure as even you could wish
her. Earnestly and resolutely has she struggled
against the dread disease which gnaws her suffer-
ing heart : solemnly has she sworn that no
temptation shall subdue her : and bravely, as yet,
has she kept her vow. Hers is not the sort of
character that courts self-chastisement as a luxury ;
and hugs a disappointment with the secret satis-
faction which feebler natures find in sorrow. Had
it been so, she might ere this have fallen perhaps.
The meek acceptance of a " trial '' is sometimes
nothing but the choosing of one. " The Lord's
will be done'' too often imputes to Providence the
natural sequences of our culpability. With Daisy

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHBRS. 17

self-esteem and force of will had been her two
main props. These qualities had begotten habits
of virtuous action in her ; and thanks to associa-
tions' law, this mighty force of Habit is as power-
ful for good as for eviL Let no one think to stifle
conscience by that soothing plea — ^Necessity, We
are as much the creatures of good circumstances
as we are of bad. The fact that evil thoughts or
deeds are harder to resist when once indulged in,
also proves resistance easier at every repetition.
And the prayers that most avail, are actual eflforts
towards the end that's prayed for.

This at least was Daisy's doctrine. She prayed,
you may rely upon it; but her prayers were
struggles against evil, and her character was
strengthened by this exercise of volition. But
still it was no easy matter to sustain the victory.
There were two weak points from which she was

VOL. II. 2

18 THE MIDLANDS AND 0THEB8.

assailable. Her resentment against her husband,
and her compassion for her lover. Lord de
Grecy's conduct towards her, as often as not,
assumed the guilt which she so valiantly resisted.
His jealousy knew no limits ; and this insult was
outrageous in proportion to her honesty. On the
other hand was Northern, with weapons in his
armoury which few of Daisy's sex had power to
contend against. Of his looks we have said enough :
and personal beauty in men is never an ultimate
consideration with women ; they value it, as they
value every other masculine attribute, — ^as an
instrument of power. Power is their Deity.
And men who possess it in any shape— beauty of
form, physical strength, wealth, moral supremacy,
intellect, force of will, and rank, infallibly com-
mand their homage. I place these various modes
of power in accordance with their degree. "Until

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 19

the permanent influences of affection rule, Eank
stands highest in the scale of potency. Social
eminence is the outward sign of every kind of
merit ; what wonder then if admiration mounts
step by step with greatness P

Then, too, Lord Northern's assurance and self-
assertion were no less admirable than his title.
And here again we must insert our comments.
The world takes people sunmiarily at their pri-
vate valuation ; and even when it finds its errors,
it winks at the deception which imposed upon it.
Now, women hold most of their opinions at second
hand ; hence he that looks down upon all others
is pretty sure to be looked up to by them. Again,
his lordship had another advantage, may be a
concomitant of the former ; he possessed the in-
estimable " gift of familiarity.^' To men who are
generally ready to pardon faults in those above

I

20 THE MIDIANDS AND OTHERS.

them for a word or nod that for the moment levels
both up and down, Lord Northern's frankness
won him friends ; with women the gift went far-
ther : it suggested the most delightful of relation-
ships, without shocking their timidity, or compro-
mising their tender scruples.

So much for Northern's character. Seen
through Daisy's eyes it probably assumed an
aspect whidi we have failed to give it. To her no
feature in that character was more attractive or
more dangeroua than the misery he suffered on
her account. Yet the only kindness she could
show him was to persist in being cruel.

" Why did you not answer my last letter P "
asks Lord Northern, who takes his mother's place
by Daisy's side. Lord de Crecy was glaring at
them across the room.

" It did not require an answer," the lady thinks.

^

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 21

" Require ! No. It was not a business letter,
certainly ! "

" I forget what it was about," says the fibbing
Daisy, trying to be off-hand.

The marquis sighed heavily — ^Lord de Crecy
heard him, and his countenance twitched with
such a pang that Mrs. Seabright said, '^ I fear
your lordship's gout is dreadful bad to-
night.''

" No," said he, " 'tis the hurt I got at Tramways.
I begin to think the mischief is past cure."

"Yes!" ejaculated Northern. "There was
nothing worth remembering, nothing but the old
story. You never took an interest in that. You
might have written me one line though — when you
know how precious to me is the very paper which
your hand has touched."

"What good can writing do P " the lady mur-

22 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

inurs, nervously turning over a book which she
had seized upon.

" What good can silence do P " says he, "unless
it is a pleasure to give me pain ; which in truth
it seems sometimes to be.'*

" Hush ! '' said she, beseechingly.

" Well, is it not so ? "

"You know it is not. I have often begged
you not to address me in a strain which it is impos-
sible for me to listen to. You pay no heed to my
entreaties ; what resource have I but silence P "

" And what for me could be half so hard to
bear P Write and abuse me if you will, say that
you hate me; why don't you write that P Any-
thing is better than your cold disdain, or mute
indiflference."

" They are watching us,'' muttered the victim,
in despair; "pray — ^pray spare me."

k

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 23

" What .do I care who watches P What is the
world to me when you are so hard and cruel P "

" For my sake I entreat you/' she whispered.

" Promise then you will answer when I write
to you — say anything — say something : lecture
me on my madness. I will try to become sane :
but don't drive me to desperation. Will you
promise P "

" I will promise nothing. You have no right
to persecute me. You must be mad^ I think, or
you would not dare insult me so.''

"Persecute, — insult you, Daisy ! Listen to

me ''

" Mr. Evans," called the lady, with one of her
winning smiles ; " have you seen this new album
of Lady Selina's P it is full of such pretty things.
Here— there is plenty of room by my side."

Mr. Evans chuckle d in his sleeve^ and sat down.

24 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

CHAPTER n.

When Lord St. Kitts and Sir Percy Froth re-
tired that eyening to the smoking-room, these
gentlemen indulged themselves pretty freely in
commenting on their friends.

" He goes the pace, Percy, don't he P I'd give
a trifle for such brass as that; the metal is so
polished too, he patronizes them so splendidly."

^'Tes," says Froth, puffing lazily at his cigar.
'' There's nothing women admire like courage.
L^audace ioujours de I'audace. It saves 'em so
much trouble."

" How handsome she is : looks dooced unhappy
though. Do you think the old boy twigs P"

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 25

''He must be a precious flat if he doesn't.
Break that big coal, Kitty, let's have a blaze.^'

'' I caught him looking uncommon ugly two or
three times to-night, when Northern was on the
sofa with her. Do you suppose the entente cordiale
really exists between them P "

" Quien sabe ! You'd better ask Northern,"
laughs the baronet. " He don't look so jolly un-
der the circumstances as he ought to. I wonder
De Crecy stands it as he does. Why the devil
don't he kick him out of the house P "

" That's a game two might play at. And the
odds are the old-un would come off second best."

" Metaphorically, I mean."

"Well, there's nothing Northern would like bet-
ter than a row. He'd jump at a chance of breaking
De Crecy's head. The noble viscount knows it too."

" But why on earth did he ask him here P "

26 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

" That was rather stupid of him, I allow. The
fact is, De Crecy is a vulgar-minded old dog. He
is as fond of real swells as mother Seabright is of
sham ones. He can't resist asking the duke and
duchess every year; and to have left out Northern,
who came down to Tramways unexpectedly just
after the invitation to the whole lot of us, would
have been to open a display of his frontal orna-
ments. I dare say he ain't very proud of 'em."

" Northern ought to be more civil to him.
Property has its duties as well as pleasures ;
don't they say ? He shouldn't snub the old chap
so : it shows a want of proper feeling."

"The habit is inveterate. Northern knows
him too intimately to respect him. And after
all, it is only tit-for-tat. I fancy the marquis
doesn't consider himself boimd by any great
obligation to Lord de Crecy."

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 27

" That's true, De Crecy is certainly the wrong
man in the right place. Poor Northern! it's
dooced hard to be cut out by an old cuss like that.''

" He did his best to deserve it though."

" What, carrying on in Paris, you mean ? The
fellow has such cheek. He will wash his linen
in the streets. Why, hang me ! if just about the
time he was making up to Daisy Lea, he didn't
drive down Piccadilly with FannyMoimtjoy, and
left his brougham at the club door for half an
hour — her ladyship inside."

" Pshaw ! my dear Kitty, it was most likely
Lady Selina. Tou know you are as blind as a bat."

*' Dash it, man ! Didn't I shake hands with
her myself? Never was so astonished. I fancied
she was your cMre amie, old boy."
• " Mine ? I like that ! I never spoke two sylla-
bles to her in my life."

28 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

" What infernal liars some fellows are now !
Little Busby told everyone at Spratt's that he saw
you take her into Browser's — that eating-place in
the Strand, don't you know — not a fortnight
ago.''

Sir Percy Froth positively declared there was
not a word of truth in the affirmation. And
swore in very pointed language that next time
he encountered Mr. Busby he would call that
mendacious person to account.

" There was a talk," said Lord St. Kitts, " of
Northern going in for the parson's daughter,
wasn't there?"

" Nelly Seabright ? Well, I believe the women
wanted to get up a match for propriety's sake,
more than anything else.'^

The young earl burst out laughing. "Tou
mean/' said he, "they are anxious for a marriage

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 29

to make the other relationship respectable? You
have a flattering idea of female ethics, Percy.
But, joking apart, you think there's nothing
initP^'

" No, I don't believe a word of it. See how
mad he is about the viscountess."

" She's a jolly girl though, ain't she ? "

'' What, Miss Nelly ? Te-as, not bad. Rather
slippery, I should say.'* Sir Percy yawned, as if
the subject did not interest him.

"Lots of pewter too," pursued his lordship,
tentatively. '^ Just suit you, Percy : five or six
thou, per annum, at least, eh ? "

"Me? no, wouldn't take her at double the
figure. Besides, I don't suppose she has anything
of the kind. Who told you what she'd got ? "

"Terrier, first-rate authority. But tell me
old chap, did it ever strike you that that big

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

engineering party was making up to her? Mr.
Wharton, I mean/'

" Can't say I have taken much notice of the
man. Very probable, though. An adventurer
like that's sure to have a shy for the money."

^' Egad ! she seemed to me rather sweet upon
him. Why ain't he here? I know he got an
invitation."

"Gone abroad, I believe ! a good riddance too^
conceited ass ! He and old Mumford are always
putting their heads together for some mischief or
other. I would not trust either of 'em farther
than I could throw a bull by the tail."

" Well, I don't think he's a bad sort of fellow.
He doesn't cotton up a chap, like lots of men in
his position. As to old Lavinia, she's a sly old
girl, but she wouldn't do anybody harm^ bless
you ! not she."

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 31

In this racy and familiar style these fashionable
young gentlemen pursued their conversation far
into the night : but as the topics they discussed
were, for the most part, unsuitable to refined
readers, (for whom exclusively this history is com-
piled,) let us improve the opportimity by some
notice of Lord de Crecy, and of the circumstances
which led to his ill-assorted marriage.

Sir Percy Froth has spokon of his lordship in
our hearing as a vulgar man. This epithet must
be taken with modification. Lord de Crecy, in
all that relates to external demeanour^ was a
model of good breeding. His vulgarity, we are
bound to say, was merely mental. In society his
lordship had always passed for a man of the most
patrician manners and appearance. When young
he was remarkably good-looking. And though
advanced in his sixth decade, he still preserved

32 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

(with the assistance of an accomplished valet) so
much of his juvenility that at a little distance^ or
in a faint lights he might have been taken for a
youth of forty. And to judge by Lord de Crecy's
own account of his close intimacy with the last of
the GeorgeSy he must at one time have led a life
which is generally considered deleterious to what-
ever pertains to youth. It is a well-known fact
that he was once a perfect Juan, and that the
catalogue of his escapades would astonish a Le-
porello. This of course was long ago. The noble
viscoimt had adopted a different line. He had
for many years enjoyed the odours of sanctity.
He was a luminary at Exeter Hall. He figured
prominently as a patron of all sorts of moral and
religious movements. He had published his
"Elucidations of Revelations," and was the
anonymous author of the celebrated " Inner Man ;

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 33

or, Wrestlings in the Closet." As such you may-
be sure the reminiscences of his former days
were not agreeable to him. Nothing did he
dislike more than the allusions of his contem-
poraries to the details of his youthful follies.
True, not many of his comrades were remaining ;
but of those few the majority, I suspect, had too
little regard to his present prejudices. Conceive
the horror a man like Lord de Crecy must feel,
when such libertines as O'Flaherty (who does
not know the drunken old miscreant P) happens
to meet him at the club, and scarifies him for the
entertainment of the assembly ! The fuller the
room, the louder the old reprobate shouts at him.
" Ah, De Crecy," you may hear him bawl, "d'ye
remember the thrashen ye gave me when I was
your fag at Eton, for pouren the boot varnish
into thim locks of yours P Begad ! 'twas a bold

VOL. II. 3

34 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

deed for a little chap like me, tliat was so much
younger than yourself. But ye broke every bone
in me skin for ut.^^ Or looking out of the bow-
window^ O'Flaherty would call attention to a
passing petticoat. '^A neat foot and ankle^ I
declare I and a pritty smoilen little chit of a face
too. Faith ! De Crecy^ she's not unlike the little
wench ye met on the Margate steamboat — ^not
the won ye carried off from the boorden school ;
but the other sister, ye know> that doid of broken
heart in the workhouse after ye deserted her/' I
don'fc envy the noble viscounfs feelings when
I reflect how sensitive he was to the judgments
of his fellow-creatures.

Poor Daisy, too! How lamentable was your
case when, in those early days of your disillusion-
ment you began to comprehend what a demirep
and hypocrite you were wedded to. To be sure,

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 35

you never could have loved him, even had your
affections been as free as you supposed them : but
you might have honoured him, had he proved
worthy of your esteem. Once indeed you did
look up to him ; believing that in his virtues and
paternal care you could repose with cbnfidence ;
believing that under his wise guidance you could
forget the disappointment by which your first
fresh love was cankered. Alas ! how terrible had
that blow been. With what horror you heard
the repeated rumours of your hero's profligacy !
All the town was talking of it. Such acts as my
lord St. Kitts reported to his friend had furnished
tattle for a hundred tongues ; and the good and
pious Lord de Crecy was foremost to condole with
you, and express his horror at the awful sinfulness
of the reprobate young man.
Who can estimate the wound such scandal

36 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

must inflict upon a pure and spotless mind like
Daisy Lea's ? You and I, dear madam^ who have
cut our wisdom teeth, have ceased to be astonished
at the wickedness of young men, or even old ones.
We are charitable enough, I hope, to set down
many sins (especially our own) to the score of
amiable weakness : but Daisy Lea was outraged
beyond measure at her lover's unfaithfulness
and depravity. Deeply she took the matter to
heart. It was almost incredible to her virtuous
mind that the idol of her worship was itself
crawling before shrines too loathsome and pro-
fane to think of. We may easily imagine how
Lord de Crecy, and those who favoured his designs,
made the most of the girl's disgust and of the
youth's misdeeds. These were great capital for
him — a rival suitor, and he practised the greatest
skill in utilizing them.

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 37

And must we own that these dreadful rumours
were not entirely without foundation ? St. Kitts
was very truthful; he was too good-natured to
invent a tale to injure. What he affirmed was
doubtless true. But we protest against the notion
that Lord Northern was then in love with Daisy;
or seriously contemplated a proposal to her. In
those days the marquis' attachment was not of
that absorbing nature to preclude the possibility
of his yielding to any of the numerous tempta-
tions to which his position and his susceptibility
exposed him. He certainly preferred Daisy to
any one woman in the world ; but he was not yet
prepared to give up all women for the sake of
one. Tet notwithstanding this priority of free-
dom^ had he dreamed that she could dream of
marrying any other man^ the thought of posi-
tively losing her altogether would have set him

38 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHEBS.

instantly to estimate his loss. Instantly this
young sultan's passions would have been ablaze;
he would have cast off every other tie, have
flung every thought of trifling to the winds,
and have seized upon his prize with the swoop
of a famished eagle. The fact is, the handsome
and talented young prince believed steadfastly
in his own invincibleness. He knew his power
over Daisy's heart; but had yet to learn the
force of that heart's purity. He believed that
she was only awaiting his royal pleasure to fling
herself into his outstretched arms ; but he over-
looked the haughty spirit and high temper which
could spurn a worthless lover, whatever it might
cost her. The first intimation of such a temper
was the pubUc announcement of the girl's en-
gagement to Lord de Crecy, and like a thunder-
bolt it struck him down. The old peer's addresses

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHEBS. 39

had long been openly, paid; and Northern had
bantered Daisy about her aged suitor as though
it were the most absurd of jokes.

He was in Paris at the time the news first
reached him ; amusing himself, as fame reported^ in
the salons of the charming Mademoiselle Callypso,
of the Vari^t^s. Within an hour after receiving
the intelligence, Lord Northern was on his way
to England. Not a moment did he tarry in the
gay capital, either for convenience or engage-
ments. The fascinating Callypso was forgotten ;
not a note even written to take leave of her. Not
a message to put off the promised drive in the
"Bois**;or the morrow's dinner at the "Trois
Freres.^' Foaming with jealous wrath, and mad-
dened by suspense, he flew to London ; and, travel-
stained and dishevelled as he reached it, rushed
headlong and impetuous to demand an explanation.

40 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

Daisy Lea had neither father nor mother. She
had lived, since their death, with a married sister.
At the house of this lady — ^Lady Jane — ^the in-
dignant marquis arrived late the following even-
ing. The door of the coach is flung open with a
bang. The bell is rung and rung again — ^the
knocker shakes the house to the very attics. Daisy.
Lea, and Daisy only, guesses the meaning of the
disturbance. Lady Janets husband is still absent
at the " House.'' The two sisters have just been
having tea. The elder was talking over the great
event, and pompously discussing that anxious
question — ^the trousseau ; the younger, idly and
vacantly gazing at the fire, no more thinking of
her sister's words than of the diamonds which lay
glittering in her lap. Her thoughts had crossed
the channel, and were busy with her love, and —
CaUypso.

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 41

^' Heavens ! Jane, what's all that noisej I
wonder P "

^^ Eichard come back from the House^ I suppose.
How pale you look child. You had better go to
bed. You've done too much to-day."

Lady Jane rises to embrace her sister^ but the
door bursts open^ and Lord Northern stands before
them. Daisy Lea suppresses a scream. Her head
swims, and for a few moments she neither compre-
hends nor even hears the words addressed to her.

*' Lady Daisy/' says Lord Northern, in clear
incisive tones, ^' it is stated in the newspapers that
you are going to marry Lord de Crecy. Is there
any truth in this ; or is it false P ''

Lady Daisy clenched her teeth, but made him
no reply.

" Is it true or false P " repeats the marquis, in
the same distinct and cutting voice.

42 THB MIDLAHDe AHD 0THEB8.

** It 18 quite true/' says Lady Jane, taking her
sister by the hand in token of the protection she
afforded.

"Then (Jod forgive you!'' says Northern, "for
you have broken my hearty" and whiter than the
marble ^chimneypiece against which he stood, he
turned to leave the room.

*' Stay/' cried Daisy, starting up.

His lordship paused and answered, " What can
you have to tell me more P *'

The girl advanced to meet him, and held out
her hand. The young man touched it coldly ; and
like a flower smitten with a wintry blast, it fell to
its owner's side.

"Becall those words/' she said, 'Hhey are un-
kind ; and, pray God, untrue."

"Untrue, imtruel Lady Daisy Leap There
was a time (not long gone by) that you believed

i€

U

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 43

me when I said I loved you — loved you as I never
loved other — as I shall never love again.''

At the thought of his own loyalty, the young
man covered his face and groaned.

Northern ! " gasped the unhappy girl.
But no/' he burst forth. "You never did
believe me, or you would not have treated me like
this. You thought my passionate declarations"
(had he ever made any, I wonder P) " were as cold
and void as your own heart. You listened to me
with well-feigned interest. You allowed me to
pay you attentions, which until now I had always
taken to imply a mutual understanding of — of the
most sacred nature. I believed in your sincerity ;
I believed, and would have staked my life on it,
that Daisy Lea was true and guileless as she was
pure. Good God ! when I recall what has passed
between us for years, I cannot now realize what

44 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHEKS.

you yourself avow. I cannot realize that you are
fidse."

" False ! " echoes poor Daisy.

^' False ! " chimes in the bristling Lady Jane.
^^ My sister is too generous to cast the imputation
back upon yourself^ Lord Northern. She is too
pure-minded indeed to understand to what extent
you, my lord, deserve the reproaches which you so
shamelessly heap on her. But let me tell you she
has heard enough, more than enough/' vociferates
the wrathful lady, ^^ to justify her in renouncing
a man whom no virtuous woman could even be a
friend to.''

'^Heavens! madam, what can you mean?
What imputations are these with which the foul
breath of slander has soiled my name P Who has
dared to utter falsehoods about my doings in her
presence P Who has concocted this mischievous

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 45

deceit to poison her ear against meP And^'
(turning to poor Daisy) "have you believed
these infamous inventions P Had you no know-
ledge of my character P Were we acquaintances
of yesterday onlyp Had you no assurances to
set against mere hearsay P Was there nothing in
your heart to whisper how true I was, how false
were these reports P Daisy ! Daisy ! could
you accuse me P I thought you knew me better/'

"Believe me, Northern — believe me, my
friend,"cried the tortured girl, seizing his burn-
ing hand ; " it was not I who accused you — it
was your own misdeeds. I resisted, indeed I did,
every rumour that seemed to wrong you ;
until forced at last (God knows,'' she sobbed,
"against my will) to think that you — cared more
for others than you cared for me."

" Who — what forced you to such belief P "

46 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

"Proofs, proofs, Northern,*' gulped out poor
Daisy from behind her tear-soaked handkerchief.

" Yes ; and I know who furnished them. The
man whose interest it was to make me seem
as profligate a scoimdrel as he himself is. De
Orecy was the man."

"Lord Northern,*' remonstrates the lady,
suddenly flushing with indignation^ " I will not
hear Lord de Grecy spoken of in such terms to
my face."

"You are right; there is no need for me to
abuse him, or disabuse you. Soon enough you
wiU discover the hypocrisy of which you have
been the dupe/'

" No,*' says she, recovering herself with dig-
nity. " You are imjust to one whose high cha-
racter I trust ere long you will appreciate as I do.
He, at all events, will teach me to forget the

THB MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 47

vanities and follies of my childliood. In him I
diall find the guide I have lost in my parents.
And in awakening from the wild dreams of a
feverish passion (which I never ought to have
yielded to), I shall seek and find repose in the
paternal care of a man whom I can thoroughly
respect/'

Her ladyship, now put upon her mettle^ looked
lovelier and more superb than ever. The tears
which sparkled in her eyes flashed like brilliants,
and her gentle bosom heaved with the conscious-
ness of triumphant virtue. For my part, I can
easily understand the condition of her lover at the
»ght of so much beauty in distress.

" Daisy," he cried in the most passionate of
tones, after gazing at her for a moment in raptur-
ous silence ; *^ it is not now too late. You must
— ^you shall be mine. Say but one word, dearest

48 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

— I will explain all to Lord de Crecy. If he has
the faintest sentiment of honour ; if he has any
shadow of affection for you ; if he is capable of
the lesust compunction at plunging you into irre-
parable sorrow, at making your life one unending
life of regret^ he will — ^nay he must and shall
release you ! Speak, dearest— why do you not
answer mef

" Northern, it cannot be ! No. Do not seek to
turn me from my purpose. I have long and well
considered the step which I have taken. What I
have done — am about to do, is, I am well assured,
best for the happiness of both of us. You are
deceived in your estimate of Lord de Crecy ; and
you cannot now comprehend how much reason I
have to honour and respect him.''

" Respect ! " sneers the listener.

" You are deceived in me,'* continued Daisy,

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 49

*' if you imagine that I am not sufficiently mis-
tress of myself to abide with cheerfulness and
courage by the lot which I deliberately have
chosen. And you are deceived, dear Northern, in
yourself. As you are, you would make no woman
happy by marrying her ; for you yourself could
not be happy if bound to one woman by
ties which you could not sever whenever the
whims of your capricious fancy prompted. Do
not misapprehend me. Your character is fall
of noble qualities — qualities which every woman
must admire ; but the misfortune of your high
position, added to these very qualities, have made
what is called success too easy to you, and have
thrown temptations in your way which your virtue
was not strong enough to withstand. I do not ac-
cuse you, Northern; I do not even blame you. Your
good sense and honourable feeling will, I am sure,

VOL. II. 4

50 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

impd 70a to do justice to yourself; and lead you
to fill with distinction the brilliant place to which
your abilities and your rank both summon you.
Qo, my friendy and win the glorious rewards of
noble fame, which are already within yonr graap.
Go; forget me ; and struggle gallantly for a far
higher prize. In these days there is work for
every man's hand to do. And every tiine she hears
your name mentioned with honour^ Daisy Lea's
heart will exult in your renown ; she will think
with pride of the stimulus she once gave to your
best endeavours ; and the good you do will be a
joy to her such as the most affectionate of friends
alone can feel."

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 51

CHAPTER m.

It would have been well for our noble youth had
he followed the good advice of this excellent young
lady. But I fear no thoughts were further from
his mind when he left her presence, and for some
time afterwards, than obedience to those wise and
moral precepts. He repented, it is true, of certain
passages of his life in Paris and elsewhere ; and
bestowed many hearty maledictions on the day he
had first set eyes on the fascinating CaUypso. But
his regrets were not of the highest moral charac-
ter. They amounted rather to a painful and inef-
fectual remorse arising out of a comparison between

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

the lovely and spotless creature he had lost, and
the meretricious priestess of the foam-bom goddess,
for whose sake he had neglected her. As to the
veteran demirep who had defrauded him of the
sweet prize, he vowed a day should come when he
would pay Lord de Crecy in his own coin. Mean-
while the baffled youth kicked violently against
the pricks of his disappointment. Between the
haughty young prince who had never known a re-
buff, and the poor lad who had his peck of dirt to
swallow like the rest of us, the conflict raged
incessantly. He fumed and fretted and turned his
petty principality upside down. He starved and
smoked, and made himself quite ill. He thought
of cudgeUing De Crecy, and now his thorny
pillow was visited with delirious schemes of
carrying off the bride. At last he sank into the
slough of deep despair.

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 53

While in this state he would see no one. He de-
voured Byron. He meditated atheism one day, and
had thoughts of starting for New Zealand as a
missionary the next. He would choose the dark-
est and wettest winter evenings for his walks, and
lose himself drearily amongst the filthy little
streets of London ; or moon about under the de-
serted and dripping yews at the farthest limits
of Kensington gardens. Carefully he thrust
every newspaper from his sight lest he should
be informed when the marriage was to be ; or still
worse, that it had actually been solemnized. Of
course none of the family, not even Selina (who
was burning to condole with her brother, and had
in fact made several fruitless efforts to turn his
mind into the paths of peace which she herself,
under similar circumstances, had so successfully
pursued) ever breathed the name of Daisy Lea or

54 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHEBS.

her intended husband^ in the presence of the re-
jected lover. He was in ignorance^ so far blissM,
whether the worst was past or not. But oh ! what
a pang shot through his heart one afternoon when,
walking up Portland Place, a travelling chariot
rattled by him drawn by four of Mr. Newman's
greys. Will he ever forget those confoimded
blue post-boys P or their white and glossy hats P
or, death and fury! those detestable cockades?
A face, as white as the satin these were made of,
peered wofuUy from the chariot window — a face,
how lovely and how sad ! And back in the recesses
of that little chamber — a chamber whose narrow
limits necessitated the hatefiillest propinquity,
reclined another face. Oh ! (to the wretched mar-
quis) how disgusting ! Yes, 'twas she : 'twas he.
In a moment they were gone. But in that brief
lapse of time their eyes — ^the young lady's and

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 55

the young gentleman's — ^had met. And in that

short space, what passed severally through their

thoughts, none but the most harrowing, the most

sensational of novelists could describe.

Who, I ask, can see a couple rattling off in this

way without falling into serious meditations on

the spot P Who can refrain from clapping the

cap of Fortunatus on his head^ and accompanying

the pair upon their journey. Bless us ! What a

pace the fancy travels — ^behind those four grey

posters. 'Tis enough to make one's head swim.

And if the couple be both young and handsome,

the deuce is in it if every one who stands gaping

on the pavement don't wish them safely through

it — ^not the pavement — ^but the journey. But
lud! if one ox both be old — I refer you to Lord

Northern. What think you were his feelings as

that chariot galloped past him P May the reader

56 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHEBS.

never know them ! Enough to state, the more
he pondered over them the worse his lordship
grew. In course of time an inkling of this men-
tal fact began to dawn upon him. He knew his
case was, in a sort, past curing; so he manfdlly
resolved to make the best of it. The duke, who
never could be got to enter into his son's calamity,
but always alluded to the subject with a jest, per-
suaded him at last to travel. He took the good
advice, and went first to the continent and the
East, and subsequently to America. For two
whole years he neither saw Daisy, nor corre-
sponded with her, nor heard her name once
mentioned. And whether it was the travel-
ling or the absence, he certainly came back an
altered man.

While he was abroad the duke had put him
into parliament; and immediately upon his

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 57

return he began to take an active part in politics.
Both from Germany and America he had imbibed
some highly democratic notions: and burned
with the generous ardour of youth to advance the
interest of the masses. It was about this time
that he undertook to enlighten the natives of
Longthorpe by a course of lectures upon the
social and political state of the four quarters of
the globe which he had .lately visited. The
coimtry was not a little startled at the ultra-liberal
tendency of his lordship's views. The squires
and clergy especially were nearly as much shocked
as they were astonished. But the operatives and
mechanics flocked in large numbers to these
popular discourses ; and were enraptured with the
fervid eloquence of the young statesman. The
Duke of Midland was unable to keep pace with
his son's progressive doctrines. It was enough

58 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHEfiS.

for him however that they were not conservative.
Mr. Seabright was delighted with them. The
worthy parson refrained on principle from obtrud-
ing his own politics on his neighbours. He con-
sidered that this kind of propagandism was no
part of a clergyman's duty ; and moreover, as it
was sure to make him enemies, that it might
thereby impair his influence as a pastor. Never-
theless he was as deeply interested in the affairs of
the state as any man living; and in many points
coincided in the views of his enthusiastic friend.
I am afraid he also foimd secret pleasure in watch-
ing the effect which the lecturer produced upon
his audience. Had bombshells fallen amongst
them greater consternation could not have been
exhibited when, on the subject of the church and
its connection with the state, the noble marquis
took the opportunity to denounce " the cowardice.

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 59

the indolence, and worldly self-seeking of those
members of the clerical profession who fought
against the spirit of inquiry ; and preached blind
submission to authority, and servile reverence to the
dogmas of ignorance and superstition. The days
of a national church — the most impertinent
question-begging epithet ever imposed upon a free
coimtry — were (this trenchant reformer declared)
already numbered. It was a system of extortion
to perpetuate the bigotry of the few." When
the lecturer reverted to politics, the astounded
squires must have thought the Day of Judgment
was at hand. '^ It was useless (he assured them)
any longer to bury their heads, , like ostriches,
in the dust of ancient crotchets. The fiery whirl-
wind was blowing up. The grumblings of the
coming earthquake might be heard. The surface
of the social world would be remodelled ; and its

60 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHEBS.

present effete encumbrances swept away by the
mighty torrent of reform. After this delage —
the Millennium. New institutions would be deve-
loped. New classes would vindicate their natural
rights. The claims of labour and the majesty
of intellect would be exalted to a paramount
supremacy; and those who now consumed in
idleness the fruits of struggling industry would
bo gibbeted as scarecrows to terrify the oppressors
of all times to come.' Do you imagine^ gentle-
men (the lecturer glanced fiercely at an obese
chairman of quarter sessions), that Providence has
budded spurs upon your heels, and saddles upon
the backs of others P Do you believe that Heaven
confers upon a chosen few a patent for the privi-
leges which you have so abused P that it smiles
upon your bloated and selfish apathy? Let me
warn you while yet there is a chance for you. The

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 61

divine right of kings has long since grown
apocryphal. The only right now left 'divine*
is the sovereignty of the people. Beware lest
you convert the beneficent spirit of reform into
the destroying demon of rebellion."

The young orator then proceeded to inform them
that democracy was neither more nor less than a
law of nature. The democratic principle, he
affirmed, was an impulse quite spontaneous, and
entirely beyond the power of parliaments and
legislators, The history of civilization (his lord-
ship cited some pertinent illustrations) pointed
unmistakably to this fact. And henceforth his-
tory was to be interpreted by it. The condition
of all classes was tending in the direction of poli-
tical equality. Increasing intelligence and in-
creasing power of combination insured the future
self-government of mankind. The latter consi-

62 THE MIDLANDS AND 0THEB8.

deration alone mustconyince eveiy thoughtfdl mind
how inevitable the movement mnst be. With a
cheap press and ubiqnitary locomotion^ the influ-
ence of sympathetic thought and the power of
sympathetic action were hourly telling upon
millions — whose mere numerical preponderance
must, when combined, overwhelm every obstacle
to their will.

These and many similar sentiments were pro-
pounded by the marquis upon his return from
North America. They were set forth with that
vehemence of conviction which is not unfre-
quently to be observed in the early stages of
manhood; a period of life when the dictates of
emotion are found preferable to the tedious
process of reasoning, and when we despise the
caution of our elders as contemptible timidity
which impedes all healthy action.

THB MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 63

CHAPTER IV.

It is not difficult to believe that these lectures gave
oiFence. But to no one were they more unsavoury
than to the Viscount Lord de Crecy ; who once,
and once only, was inveigled to become a listener.

This nobleman was furious at the attacks upon
his order ; and chose to appropriate them as person-
alities to himself. "Parcel of incendiary rubbish,*'
he exclaimed to Lady de Crecy, when they were at
home again ; " I wonder liow Midland can allow
a boy like that to do such a mons'ous deal of
harm. Disgraceful, upon my life ! "

" Well, I don't see what mischief it can do,''

64 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

spoke out her ladyship ; " on the contrary, for my
part I think it very right that we should be
reminded of our duty to the poor."

" Duty to the poor, my love ! what on earth
has that to do with it P Goodness knows, I am
the last person to forget the wants of others ; but
you can't understand these things, my dear. You
do not see what incalculable mischief is done by
these intemperate rantings against the aristocracy.
They set the lower classes violently against us ;
and teach the common people to imagine they
are as badly oiF as these abominable stump orators
pretend/'

" No great stretch of imagination required for
that I should think,'* retorts the lady, keeping
down her partisanship for — the "common people '*
of course.

" That's all you know about it! " cries my lord,

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 65

who was beginning to smart from a sting in an-
other tender quarter* ''The lower classes were
never better off — ^never half so well off as they are
now. Fm sick of this blatant nonsense about a
corrupt nobility, and an oppressed people. One
has heard a great deal too much of such stuff.
Every idle rascal who is too lazy to work^ and
has impudence enough to prate^ goes about the
country stirring up all the discontent he can. A
man ought to be ashamed of himself for uttering
such a pack of lies.^'

''I do not fancy that Lord Northern feels
ashamed of himself; nor would he be much
flattered by the graceful term you apply to his
political opinions."

'' I had no thought of flattering him/' cries the
husband, losing patience at this turn of the argu-
ment ad hominem. '' Far from it, Lady de Crecy,

VOL. II. 5

66 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHEBS.

far from it* There is no need to flatter a cox-
comb who has already so good an opinion of
himself. And as to his sense of shame madam*
I can well believe that thai is on a par with his
veracity and his good taste."

This last sentence was vague, it is trae, and^
apart from collateral considerations, might not
have had much import. To Lady de Crecy, how-
ever, it was odiously significant. There was some-
thing in the word " shame '^ mightily obnoxious
to her present feelings. The term " madam " too
was imputative in the last degree. Daisy de
Crecy had certainly never heard of the great
Jonathan Wild, nor of his chaste spouse ; but I
am sure she mentally ejaculated, "Why madam P'^

"As to good taste, my Lord de Crecy," she
said with scorn, " your own language proves you
incapable of imderstanding what it means: and as

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 67

to Lord Northern's ' sense of shame/ I am really
at a loss to divine what your words imply."

" Oh of course ! of course you don't understand
me. Ha ! ha ! naturally, purity and innocence
do not know the meaning of duplicity and in-
trigue. You, I say, do not imderstand the mean-
ing of Lord Northern's conduct in this house, or
wherever he may chance to meet you. No doubt
in your eyes he is perfectly ingenuous, most
pleasant and agreeable, most charming, fascinat-
ing, and seductive, — and seductive I repeat, madam.
By heaven ! the scoundrel takes every oppor-
tunity to maintain the place in the affections of
my wife, which he held in the heart of Daisy
Lea.'^

" And perhaps, my lord, you will add that I
encourage him ? ''

" By God ! madam, I believe you do I '^

68 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHEBS.

Lady de Crecy drew herself up, confronted her
husband, looked him for a moment fnll in the
face^ and did not strike a dagger to his heart, only
I imagine because she Lad no such weapon at
hand. She turned however on her heel, dashed
out of the room, and as she banged the door
behind her, gave emphatic utterance to the
monosyllable — " Brute ! "

Poor Daisy ! the consciousness of your own
pure-mindedness might have enabled you to bear
this and similar not unfrequent outbursts of your
husband's jealousy and injustice ; but it was too
hard to reflect how much you had surrendered
for the man who thus maltreated you. It
was too provoking to think that he whom you
had once regarded with respect should fall so
low in your esteem, that far from finding in him
support to strengthen y« a in your self-chosen

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 69

struggle, yoa had but found an instrument to make
your torture more complete. Why, why had
you so impetuously sacrificed yourself for that
girlish notion of Right ? Why, unprepared by
any novitiate, did you at once and for ever re-
nounce the joys which were beginning to bloom
around your young and glowing life P Was the
duty so peremptory ? Was the call so sacred P
" Daisy, Daisy ! " a little voice sometimes whis-
pered, ** you loved that youth ; and thought that
youth was false ; and pique — ^pique, my dear
not piety, induced you to take the fatal step/'

Such inward whisperings were anything but
comforting to a wounded and fretting spirit. It
would have been soothing to feel even now that
she had really acted for the best, that the highest
motives, and the highest only, had shaped her
stormy course. But she could not quite persuade

70 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

herself tliis was so. It is possible her self analysis
might lead her to conclusions not altogether just.
It is possible her altered opinion of^ and feeling
towards, her husband might obstruct the recol-
lection of her former reverence for him, and
make her conduct seem to her less disinterested
than it was.

Be this as it may, there was but little
comfort in looking back. It was known to her
that Northern had been miserable for some
time after her marriage. She knew that he had
abandoned the abominable French actress. He
had roved the world over to regain the peace
which she herself had blasted. After two long
years of absence his love was as true as ever.
She had wronged him. She had injured him.
She had jilted him ! How could she help loving
him. And yet it was so wicked! Then the

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 71

battling of conscience alternated with despair;
passionate regret gave place to prayers for mercy
and protection. One moment the Paradise she
yearned for was on earth, the next it was trans-
lated to a heavenly sphere. Often she was weak
and shattered, but oftener still resigned and
strong.

After such scenes as we have just described the
wretched viscount would fly into the extremes of
penitence and humiliation. He would cast him-
self at his young wife's feet, and clasp his trem-
bling hands — ^his beautiful hands, bejewelled with
precious rings, — and sob and pray to be forgiven.
He would heap all manner of imprecations on his
own poor foolish, jealous, frizzled head; and look,
and feel indeed, so utterly deplorable, so miserably
fond, that Daisy had no heart to torture him nor
power to withhold her pardon. But alas, these

72 THE MIDLAirDS AND OTHBBS.

tragi-comical relapees had no permanent eflEect
in bridging the chaam between them. Since
Lord Northern had come back he was perpetually
meeting Daisy, and every time he met her
there followed some frightful outbreak.

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHSBS. 73

CHAPTER V.

Wretched as was this state of things^ Lady de
Crecy managed now and then to find some trans-
cient relief from her troubles in the society of
Mr. Evans. By-and-by we shall find this gen-
tleman taking a part^ though a minor one, in the
action of the story ; besides which, his discourses
with Lady de Grecy serve as a foil to set off the
character of that interesting creature. Li the
present chapter, therefore, we shall first say a few
wonds about Mr. Evans himself, and then, even at
the risk of being tedious, give a specimen of their
intellectual converse.

The history of their acquaintance was sin\ply

7-4 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

this. Lady de Grecy had a special fondness for
the society of artists and men of letters ; one may
say in fact, for iUustrious personages of every
kind. This admiration for talent amounted in
her almost to a fault. She would take up people
who had nothing to recommend them but mere
talent ; and we need not add that she was fre-
quently disappointedand disgusted in consequence.
It was of no avaU that her friends remonstrated :
she would only answer, " Oh but he (or she) is so
clever ! " And when her mind was once made up
it was difficult to turn her. In accordance with
this taste, whenever a new star shone forth in the
firmament of society, she was not content until
she brought it to shine on her. Every new cele-
brity had to swell the ranks of her admiring
followers. Vanity P Of course it was. Daisy de
Crecy was very vain. Well, Mr. Evans happened

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 75

to have tastes of a somewhat similar nature. I
do not mean to say that he wanted every poet to
write sonnets to his eyebrows (beauty was not
one of his conspicuous characteristics) ; but he
loved both art and literature for their own sakes^
and was pleased to be much with those who
followed these pursuits. This brought him into
contact with Lady de Crecy ; and being an enthu-
siastic admirer of the Beautiful^ he soon became
enamoured of her. Enamoured we have said^ and
80 the word may stand ; bufc not to be taken in
the sense in which we should apply it to the
marquis. Evans was past forty^ and a man of
considerable experiences. He had seen and un-
dergone and read and thought more than most
men. The result was a philosophic composure
of a somewhat cynical cast. He was a close
observer of the infinite varieties of the human

76 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHBB.0.

character; and though he laughed in his fileeye at
the freaks and follies of human passions, he
meditated upon the sharp pangs and enduring
sorrows which these inflict, with a sadness fully
equal to his sense of humour. He had long seen
through and through the heart of the lovely Daisy ;
and knew there was no place there for him — at
least not the place he might have sighed for had
he been fifteen or twenty years younger. Yet
he allowed himself to bask in the sunshine of
her friendship and to inhale the luscious fra-
grance of her character, with a sort of luxurious
moral indolence ; conscious that he was lying on
a bed of roses which threatened to asphyxiate
him with their perfume. But still he knew so
well by past experience the fatal consequences of
such opium eating that he kept the reins of his
imagination in hand, ready to give the jade the

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 77

cxirb the moment she grew skittish. Besides,
the sweet smiles the coquettish familiarity the
flattering confidence to which Lady de Crecy
treated him, so obyiously proved that she had no
misgivings about his interpretation of her, that
this very behaviour, which might have turned the
head of a less sensible man, was to him a source
of safety.

Daisy herself of course knew that Evans was
her slave : she liked him none the less for this ;
especially as he never once forgot that he was also
his own master. She felt moreover that whatever
she might do or say he never would forget this
&ot. So she was thoroughly at ease with him ;
and had the delightful conviction that he was in
full possession of her secret ; that he perfectly
comprehended her situation ; that he sympathized
with her ; that he knew her purity as surely as

78 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

he knew her love ; and consequently — ^he being
endowed with this omniscience respecting her —
that she had nothing to hide^ and nothing to re-
veal ; and that the pleasant relationship between
them was in no danger of being marred by any
accident whatsoever.

What can be more agreeable than an intimacy
such as here described P There is a charm in such an
amity between two persons of opposite sex which
no alliance under any other condition affords. So
long as the limits oi friendship are rigidly adhered
tOf each of necessity fosters the most delightful
credulity in the latent perfections of the other.
The illusions may be preserved for ever, provided
the dangerous tree of knowledge be not robbed
of its tempting fruit. If the circumstances of
the case do not of themselves obviate the present
possibility of every correlation more intimate

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 79

than friendsliip, if there be any arriere pemie on
either side that more than this may or might be
either solicited or granted^ firom that moment
self-consciousness steps in; the stamp of awk-
wardness is set on every thought and act ; and
the ndiveti and abandon^ which contribute so
much, are thenceforth supplanted by artfulness
and suspicion.

Happily the friendship between Lady de Crecy
and Mr. Evans was secure against disturbance,
and the congeniality of their tastes served greatly
to cement it. She would often draw him into
argument upon subjects which both took interest
in ; and while she flattered him by her respect
for his opinions, she maintained her own with no
less ingenuity than warmth. Various were the
subjects of their amicable controversies. Litera-
ture and the fine arts were their favourite topics.

80 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHEBS.

But sometimes she would contrive to allure him
into discussions on graver questions^ such as theo-
logy and metaphysics. He however was remark-
ably loath to enter upon such matters. I^ot that
they were by any means uninteresting to him
(for he had spent many years in laborious Btoif
of them)^ but having found that these labours
to extend his knowledge and range of thought
separated him more and more from received
opinions^ and that every new truth gained by
mental effort was a fresh source of disagreement
and offence to his fellow-men^ — although he did
not desist from his studies^ he declined to discuss
them with any one who was not^ like himself, a
student.

And now let us hear how pleasantly they
would talk together.

" Why do you not write a book, Mr. Evans P"

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 81

Lady de Crecy one day asked him. " You are
just the very person whom nature intended to
write books for my especial amusement."

"And will you really do me the honour to
read my book if I should ever write one ? "

" Will I P Why for the last three years I
have done nothing but read anonymous works
in hopes of detecting you amongst the great
unknown.''

"Why do you think that I should write a
book at aU?'*

'* Because if I had a hundredth part of your
ideas I should do nothing else but write. I can
fancy no occupation more delightful than at once
disburdening one's own mind^ and giving plea-
sure and instruction to others.''

"Well; and why should I write anony-
mously P "

VOL. II. 6

82 THB MIDLANDS AND OTHESS.

*' Because a man who holds so many abomin-
able heresies must needs be ashamed of them.
Seriously, why do you not write P "
" Tell me what I am to write about."
" Write as you sometimes talk to me."
" I would with pleasure if you were my only
reader. But you forget the critics, the dira gens
who sit in darkness, filing their cruel fangs.
Now-a-days their only function is to destroy."

" Bother the critics ! who cares for them !
Write for the million — ^the million who, like me,
want to be instructed and entertained. What's
the use of all your learning and all your think-
ing if they are to perish with you ? Are men
endowed with talent and unlimited leisure such
as yours for nothing P Have you no conscience P
Are you not galled by a sense of duty ? Can you
live on the bread of idleness without compuno^

^

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 83

tdon P Ah ! if I were a man^ a clever man,
wouldn't I do sometlung to stir the thin blood
of this timid-hearted worlds and rouse it into
noble action. Have you no ambition^ Mr.
Evans ?'*

"Yes, for a quiet life a good deal, Lady de Crecy.
But when a man is past forty, other ambition
is apt to cool. The temple of Fame is already
rather crowded. A few great names are all that the
little scroll of this little planet's little history has
room for. Why should poor ephemera like me add
their feeble buzz to the ineffectual din P There are
too many books already : too many miUions of
good ones that can never be read. Besides, it is
easy to read too much and think too little. No, my
lady, no more books.**

" But why should your contribution be to the
rubbish heap ? You have thought and read much.

84 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHEBS.

There is always room for excellence ; and since
the masses must have something new, why not
yours as well as anybody's P "

" Since you insist on it then, what shsdl it be P"

*' Anything. A novel — a volume of essays.

Out of the fulness of the heart the mouth
speaketh/'

"Not always/^ returned Mr. Evans, with a quiet
smile. Her ladyship acknowledged it with the
faintest of blushes. " But neither a novel nor
an essay could I write to save my life."

" Why not pray P "

" A novel, which every one fancies (till he has
tried and failed) is the easiest thing to write,
requires very special talents, directed by consum-
mate art. I am deficient in both. Then he who
writes an essay should be convinced of what
he teaches ; again the requisite does not suit me.'*

^

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 85

"How miserable you must be then, without
conyictions ! Do you really beKeve in nothing P "
asked her ladyship.

" Far from it ; I believe in pleasure and pain : in
turtle soup and the gout, for instance. I believe
sometimes, not always, in my eyes. I have no
doubts whatever about beauty ; and when I am in
the presence of it "

" You are a miserable scoffer, sir ! you have no
beUef in what is serious or solemn. You have
no belief in the soul, in life immortal. Ko hope,
no belief, in anything but annihilation and no-
thingness. I pity you !

* Alas for love ! if this were all,
And nought beyond the grave.* '*

And the fair saint's thoughts were transported
in a moment to a heaven of her own sweet making.
Mr. Evans looked at her with intense admira-

86 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

tion^ which she presently detectings started off
again upon the previous question.

''Assuming/' said she^ ''that your ignorance
and your scepticism disqualify you for an in-
structor (and I quite agree with you as to the
latter objection — I would make an auto-da-fi of you
this minute if I had my way) ; yet if you were
not so lazy you surely might write a novel. If
I had but the patience to undergo the manual
labour (I tried once^ and the dreadful feeling that
I hady goodness knows how many hundreds or
thousands of pages to fiU^ stopped me before I
got through my first chapter!) if I could but
endure the torture of cramping my little finger
for such a length of time, I could write the best
novel that ever was read. You can't think how
I would make you cry and laugh, and how
I would harass you with thrilling incidents.

THE MIDLANDS AKD OTHEBS. 87

Honeetlj, is it not worth the pains to write some-
thing which thousands shall read and take delight
in P Think how many sick-beds and sorrowing
hearts have been cheated of their pains by such men
as Walter Scott^ Goldsmith, and others I could
name. Did you read, not long ago, in the news-
papers how a murderer who had escaped to America
was caught and brought back to be hanged P and
how all the voyage home he night and day read

one of 's novels P What must the author have

felt when he heard that story P Think of the
wretched man groaning under the horrible con-
sciousness of his crime, haunted by the hideous
vision of his mutilated victim, and by the appalling
scaffold on which in a few days his own existence
would terminate. What must the author have
felt whose magic pen had exorcised such demon
thoughts, and filled the fancy of this poor wretch

88 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHEBS.

with images of goodness and beauty^ and bright
hopes and happy endings P I know what I should
have felt. I should have been bowed down with
overwhelming gratitude to the Ghreat Being who
had entrusted me with this mighty gift of doing
good."

" Ah V* sighed Mr. Eyans, with another look of
admiration at the animated speaker^ '^ what would
I give for your enthusiasm and fiery imagination I
If I had but one spark of your glowing genius
to warm up the embers of my own cold fancy, I
would at least make an effort to shed a cheering
ray on the cares of this toilsome life. But,
alas I my dear lady, enthusiasm is one of those
volatile essences whose strength depends on
being stoppered. My enthusiasm has evaporated.
There was a time when life seemed to me as bril-
liant and as hopeful as it seems to you. I too

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 89

was once inflamed witli ardent aspirations^ gene-
rous impulses^ and towering resolutions. Two sad
causes have dispelled these bright illusions of my
early days — experience — ^the terrible discrepancy
between imagination and reality, and '*

" Disappointed love ? " interposed the lady.

" A dyspeptic liver ! " returned Mr. Evans.

ff

" Bah ! " cries Daisy, " don't tell me about your
horrid liver; I hate your odious materialism.
Are we nothing but livers P Is there no spiritual
principle in man superior to this vile body?
Yes, sir, vile body. Don't look at me like that.
I have no patience with people who really have
wits, and use them only to find a plea for
indolence.*'

Mr. Evans found so much pleasure in the
society of Lady de Orecy that to keep her en-
gaged in conversation he would often ramble on

90 THE BODLANDS AND 0THEB8.

discursiyely, without any other motiye. And if
they happened to be interrapted^ as they wiere
now by the entrance of the lady's husband
(whose presence was always a sad damper to her
flow of pleasant ideas), Evans would renew the
debate directly he and she were alone again. So
on this occasion, when Lord de Crecy was gone
(and he had no taste for conversations whioh he
could not take part in) Evans encouraged Lady
de Crecy to return to the discussion. This she
willingly did ; and entered into a long coUoquy
upon art ; which we reluctantly omit, fearing to
exhaust the reader's patience. We may state,
however, that the discussion became sufficiently
animated upon Mr. Evans enunciating the doc-
trine that the end and aim of art is pleasure,
and that the means to this end is the imitation
of nature. Lady de Crecy objected to both pro-

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 91

positions. She mamtained that such an end
would be subversiye of morality: and argued
that nature exhibited much that was yulgar,
offensive^ and degrading. Mr. Evans replied that
only the purest of pleasures^ moral and intellectual^
were intended, and that he did not mean
indiscriminate imitation. ''Art/' said he, ''is
essentially eclectic. And whereas with nature
pleasure is a mere accessory, it is the business of
art (as Schiller says) to ascertain under what
conditions enjoyment is attainable ; and having
done so, to combine and represent them by a
rational method.''

And now with her customary intelligence
Lady de Orecy answered, " Granting that pleasure
should be the end of art, and certainly that
whatever is repugnant should find no place in
its delineations, what say you to the pleasure

92 THE MIDLANDS AXD OTHEES.'

wHch all — even the most cultivated — find in
the Horrible? How do you reconcile your
theory with the laws of tragic art> for instance?
whose express purpose it is to excite horror
and compassion/'

"Compassion/* said Evans, "and the horror
which the sight of moral pain excites are not
repugnant. They are, on the contrary, highly
pleasurable states of mind. It is not easy how-
ever to account for the enjoyment we experience
in contemplating some forms of misery. Never-
theless it is a fact ; but whether an ultimate fact
or not is an undecided question. The only
solution seems to be that the strongest emotions
are the best antidote for ennuiJ*

" Good heavens ! " cried Daisy, " do you
imagine then that human beings would die of
tedium if they were not kept alive by seeing one

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 93

another suffer P Will you have the impudence to
tell me that when I cry at the play, which I often
do (imless, by the way, I am going to a party
afterwards), this is nothing but sheer selfishness
on my part ? You cannot think how genuinely
miserable those stage sorrows make me. Yet it
never occurred to me that this misery was
inhuman.''

" Indeed I know full well how tender-hearted
you can be, when an appropriate object touches
you (Mr. Evans smiled) : but it is not to selfish
motives that I impute compassion for suffering ;
though some do think our own freedom from pain
a reason for the delight we take in seeing others
afflicted by it. No ; mental langour, the absence
of healthy occupation, the care which comes of
preying on oneself, and which gradually grows
oppressive to the point of madness — these make

94 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHEBS.

US rash eagerly into new emotion. And emotion^
taking fall possession of us, releases us from the
tortures of ennui. Eyerything which keeps ns
from ourselves is an sssthetic. Hence the
eagerness of the masses for action. Hence the
fascination of the racecourse^ the gaming-table^
public executions, murders, scandals, accidant&f,
and so forth."

''But why have we this decided preference for
horrors P "

'' Because the emotions which they excite are
more powerful than others. Pity, terror, sus-
pense, are far more potent than sympathy with
happiness, for example.''

" Ah ! " says Daisy, naively, " I hope this want
of sympathy with happiness is universal. The
moment people are made happy on the stage I
care no more about them. I always thought till

THE MIDLANDS AND OTH/ERS. 95

now, this was a special instanoe of my own
depravity. But why do we not sympathize with
happiness P ''

" Well," said Erans, with a humourous air,
'* those who are completely happy do not want
compassion. Then, too, the causes of that happi-
ness adinit of no participation. It may be pos-
sible to make two bites of a cherry; a third
mouth is de trop. Besides, if I happen to be
without appetite myself, I would rather not look
on while another takes his fiU.'^

''But happiness is not always of this kind,"
returns the lady.

" Of which kind ? " inquires the gentleman.

'* Of the kind you mean/' says she. " How
stupid you are."

" When it is not," says Mr. Evans, " nothing
hinders our taking part in it."

96 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

CHAPTER VI.

Lady de Crecy spent many pleasant hours at
different times in conversation like the foregoing.
It was an immense comfort to her^ having Mr.
Evans at her beck. Lord Northern being singn-
krly free from bashfulness seized every occasion,
whether opportune or not, to declare his passion
and bemoan his wretched fate, and it saved poor
Daisy many a pang — this power of summoning
to her rescue one who was ever ready to answer
her signals of distress. Nor were other circum-
stances wanting to thwart the impatient marquis,
or favour the virtuous Daisy. The house was

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 97

filled with guests : the party was a large one : and
some one or other was sure to be in the way
to baffle the young man's distracted wishes.
Amongst those who in addition to Mr. Evans
served to screen the afflicted lady was a little
Mrs. Finch, widow of one captain so named, to
whom she had been married on the very day that
officer left England to join his regiment in the
East. The poor fellow, who caught a fever on
the transport, died on the passage out ; and his
widow in due course became the mother of as
sweet a little gipsy as ever you set eyes on. We
may mention here that mother and daughter were
invited to Tinselby for the sole purpose of gratify-
ing the old duke. He had a passion for the child,
and it was the most pleasing sight imaginable to
see these two together.
But to Lady de Crecy Mrs. Finch was useful,

VOL. II. 7

98 THE MIDLAin)S AKD OTHERS

in that the latter had always a vast deal to say
on the perfections of her departed Charley. At
a moment's notice either Charley or Miss Sybil
could be turned on; and so fluent was the
supply that any attempt of Northern's while
Mrs. Finch was near^ could be swamped with
the greatest ease.

Mr. Seabright, too, and Mrs., were both set-
viceable. Notwithstanding his simplicity, the
rector was very shrewd. Whenever he saw
Daisy in danger from the approaches of the
marquis, he would use his supposed want of
penetration to disturb them, as if unwittingly. The
parson's wife had reasons of her own for prevent-
ing their tete-a-tStes. But in Mrs. Seabright's
want of tact there was not the least pretence.
Lady Selina, as we know, was for ever on the
alert ; and so great was her success, that her

k

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 99

brother, and even Daisy, wished her at the very
place from which she strove to rescue them.

And what shall we say of Helen P Was she
anxious that her presence should influence the
young marquis ? I fancy her own state of mind
was anything but comfortable : she could not
have derived much pleasure from reflecting on
the recent passages between herself and Wharton.

And yet when Lord Northern chose to flirt
with her, Miss Seabright was not unhappy. At
such times she reconciled her conscience by
blaming Mr. Wharton. His obstinacy had been
too provoking ; and if any accident prevented her
from marrying him it would be entirely owing to
his blundering proposal. Notwithstanding this
indecision, Miss Nelly considered herself in love
with Wharton, and if she flirted with Lord
Northern, Lord Northern did sometimes flirt

100 THE MIDLANDS AKD OTHERS.

with her. Both of them indulged in outward form
the passion they were forced to disappoint. As
he was much more desperately in love than she^
he never gave her a thought when she was out of
sight. Helen, on the contrary, did often think
of Northern. And had her own devoted swain
guessed the secrets of that fickle heart, he would
perhaps have plunged forthwith into the arms of
the first inflammatory /raw&w who happened to
pay court to him. Fortunately or unfortunately
(who knows which ?) the theory of vision, as pro-
pounded by a philosophic bishop, is no less true
of moral than of actual sight. As distance,
which we suppose we see, is but an inference from
form and colour, so the charms that love beholds
are inferences from attributes (generally these
very ones) which love accepts as signs of them.
The girdle of Venus could not have conferred

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 101

more perfections upon Miss Helen than did the
eyes of Mr Wharton. To him she was "a
phantom of delight/' Ai^d under this impression
he wrote to her as follows : —

''Deab Miss Seabright, —

"Whether you will so far have forgiven my rash
and impertinent declaration as to grant the audi-
ence I now crave, is more than I venture to as-
Bume. At least I may rely on the privileges of a
friend. You will not condemn me unheard: for I
neither can nor will believe that the folly I was guilty
of has effaced from your recollection a past that to me
is ever present ; although I may have reason to fear
that the sweetness of it, so unspeakable to myself, is
shared by you in no commensurate degree. What
atonement can I offer ? What plea can I allege for
my iQordinate presumption ? I feel that to excuse is
only to accuse myself. Every pretext I can think of,
every attempt at extenuation, convicts me more
irreparably of the great offence — my love.

« And what is the sentence that you have passed upon

102 THE MIDLAIIDS AND OTHERS.

me ? Yon at whose hands I looked for mercy — ^yes
indeed, for something more! The wretch that is
steeped in misery and the cnlprit nnrsed in wealth
receive from even-handed justice the penalty of their
crimes. The sentence may he the same for hoth :
hnt who shall gnage the punishment ? The condition
of the first may he improved ; the condition of the
latter is sometimes worse than death. Did I not love
you, dearest Helen (pardon me, for hy this title yon
live in all my thoughts) ; did I not love you, my lot
would now he one of patient apathy. But as with the
offender plucked from some high eminence, my despair
must now he measured hy my former happiness. Long
ere you were conscious of it, I worshipped you with
a homage profound as it was secret. Every word that
you have spoken in my hearing within these four years
past, every look and every gesture, are engraven on
my memory ; and all my admiration was interwoven
with the hope that a time would surely come when I
should hold your hand in mine, and recall to you, in
the hlest security of possession, how on such a day
your manner had alarmed me, how the next I was

TBiBr MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 103

confident agam ;. how once yon leaned upon my arm
and seined to cling to my support ; how you blushed
when I lifted you to your saddle ; how you started
when we met by accident. Dear Helen, it would
drive me mad to summcm up such images and then
be forced to regard them as delusions. But if your
beauty has so entranced me, the perfection of your
moral nature wiU save me from such a fate. It is in
this iDuneasurable superiority of yours that I have
anchored my love and trust. In the pictures which
my imagmation painted of the happy lot awaiting us,
it was not as a companion merely and a friend that
I was wont to think of you, but as one whose lasting
influence would purify my coarser nature, and exalt
me by its refinement to the levels of its own excellence.
** And now, dear Miss Seabright, do not impute to
me a want of delicacy if, in the midst of my laments
over a precipitancy which I have dearly paid for, do
not be offended with me if I allude to one possible.
cause of your rejection of my suit : I mean your
preference for another. I cannot but reflect that my
estimate of your character, my interpretation of your

104 THE MIDLANDS AND 0THEB8.

kind and gentle conduct towards me, may be over
sanguine. I cannot conceal from myself how humble
are my pretensions in comparison with those of one
in particular who aspires to your hand. That one
I am well aware has many advantages which I have
not. He has hereditary rank to offer : while I pretend
to no distinction but such as I may earn. To him the
folding-doors of fashion are flung open ; to me the
only ingress to the great world may be called the
area gate, and by the path of flunkeyism I humbly
decline to enter. But notwithstanding this discrepancy,
so invidious to myself, I ask, with satisfaction, is yours
a mind to be carried away by a vulgar admiration for
mere rank ? No ; however exalted that rank may be,
there is that in you, dear Helen, which must impel you
to consider before all things the character of the man
whom you elect to be your husband. If you reject
me, I must still continue to love you ; and by my tsne
and deep affection for you let me caution and let me
entreat you to beware of surface brilliancy, and fasci-
nating artifices learnt in the school of profligacy and
selflshness, of protestations that are heartless, of the

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 105

advances, in short, of one who may deceive yon, and
with whom yon never conld be happy.

** I risk mnch I know by openly aspersing a rival.
There is something which smacks of meanness in
calumniating a competitor. But believe me, no selfish
design of prejudicing you against another for my own
sake merely could ever induce me to speak as I have
spoken. Nothing, as God is my ^tness, but the desire
for your happiness could justify to myself the warning
I here so earnestly impress upon you.

*' Ah Helen ! what bliss is in the thought that the
right might have been mine to warn and guide you
throughout life. How great is now the pleasure of
addressing you. How bitter the obligation to be silent.
But I will not torture myself with the notion that this
silence is for ever. I cannot bring myself to think of
you as lost to me entirely. The enduring tenderness
of my own devotion seems a pledge of some return
from you. I ask no answer now : I am too fearful of
what it might contain. But I will feed on delicious
hopes and memories ; and some day will come back
to repeat how faithfully I love you."

106 XaE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

The effects produced by this flowery epistle on
the heart of the young damsel to whom it was
indited were of a conflicting kind. The first
pages were full of contrition and humility ; and
though the style might seem rather high flown
for a man overcome with feeling, this altogether
escaped Miss Nelly's observation ; and so far as
that went, she thought it very fine. The passages
which related to her perfections occasioned her
unmixed delight. She read them several times
over : and for a moment or two felt that she could
never again refuse a lover who appreciated her
merits with such discrimination, and adored her
with such exemplary fondness. But the latter
portion of the letter was not quite so satisfactory.

It would have been better for the writer had
he confined himself to the enumeration of Miss
Helen's charms, and left the imperfections of Sir

TfIB MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 107

Percy Froth to discover themselves in the natural
course of things. The fact is, the only rival that
Wharton really had was Northern. And though
this never occurred to Wharton (for he knew all
about the De Crecy affair), it did very often occur
to Helen. The consequence was, the whole of his
allusions to an objectionable suitor were miscon-
strued by the reader of them. The references to
hereditary rank, the obsequious attitude of the
fashionable world, etc., could apply to no. one
(so Helen thought) but the Duke of Midland's son.
Wharton's point of view was never realized by her.
The distinction he had drawn between himself
— a middle class and professional man, on the one
hand, and the baronet and officer in the guards
upon the other, was a distinction which to do her
justice, the girl had never dreamed of. To Helen
therefore, these sarcasms sounded like spiteful

108 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

jealousy. When moreover the letter went on to
warn her (as she imagined) against her old friend
and playmate, with direct animadversion on his
superficial lustre^ his profligate and selfish habits,
and the insincerity of his professions — ^these
charges produced nothing but resentment; and
caused her annoyance which counterbalanced the
pleasure derived from the choicest passages of the
letter. There were besides two other considerations^
which acted by no means beneficially for Wharton.
He had alleged (according to Helen's supposition)
that Northern was in love with her ; and he pro-
mised upon his own part to return and claim her
hand. What was the twofold inference ? After
all, then, she might be Duchess of Midland; and
failing this, she could at any time fall back on
Wharton.

The same day this letter reached Tinselby Miss

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 109

Seabright despatched the following to her friend
Miss Lavinia Mumford.

** Deabest Miss Lavinia, —

**Yon will I know be glad to have a line from
me, letting yon know how we are all getting on at
Tinselby. First, I mnst tell you we are enjoying
ourselves immensely. We are the gayest of the gay.
Always some fun going on every day. Yesterday we
went to see the hounds meet at Tucker's bridge, and
Daisy de Crecy most good-naturedly mounted me on
her bay mare. We had a splendid gallop. I went
like a bird. Northern giving me a lead all the time,
and riding himself like mad. Two nights ago we had
a dance, which I thought awfully jolly, for you know
I do love it. We have nobody staying in the house
except our Tramways* party, except Httle Mrs. Finch,
who is a regular duck, and the child of course, which
the darling old duke is as silly and funny with as ever.
It is too charming to see them together : she sits on his
knee, and they tell each other fairy tales all day long.
Daisy is more extravagant than ever : I have not seen

110 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

the same gown more than twice since 1 came ; every-
thiDg gorgeous, even to the petticoats, which— only
fancy — ^are trimmed with real Valenciennes lace ! She
always wears her smartest jewels too — ^at night I
mean, hut quite on ordinary occasions. But every-
thing she does is magnificent. Yon should hear poor
dear mamma go on ahout her. Mamma says they —
the De Crecys, 1 mean — can't last long at the rate they
are going. Daisy spends a thousand times more thaan
the duchess, for, like the latter, she gives away reck-
lessly (so 1 understand), and also spends a fearful lot
here, and in London. You do know Mr. Evans, don't
you ? He is the driest old man — ^I mean in the way
of fan; though why I call him old goodness knows.
Daisy is so fond of him, and 1 must say I think him
very jolly too. He is very civil to me, and so, by the
way, is a certain colonel ; you never saw anything half
so attentive, my dear, (but this is quite between our-
selves). I do not know what somebody would say if
he were here. You know who I Either he (Sir P. P.
i,eJ) or little Lord St. Kitts, are always in one's pocket.
And as to that absurd man, Mr. Terrier — ^well, 1 won't

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. Ill

say any more, or yon will fancy yonr hnmble servant
has grown suddenly vain, but if he doesn't make me or
Miss Lanyard an offer (heaven knows which it will be)
my name's not Nelly Seabright. Talking of thcU, by
the way, I have had a letter from your fiiend Mr. W.,
and I must say, my dear Miss Mumford, that it is not
altogether what I should have expected from him. I
do not mean that it is at all cool, or that sort of thing ;
on the contrary, I must admit it is flattering to poor
me. But why should he think to ingratiate himself
with me, or any one else, by abusing in the most mer-
cUess way a third party ? And of all others to attack
one who is the last person in the world to deserve it.
He is greatly mistaken if he thinks this sort of thing
could possibly be agreeable to me. And I must say I
wonder at his doing it, and do think it too odious of
him. I can't tell you how provoked I am, for he
knows as well as I do, how intimate I am vnth the
person against whom he warns me ; and how much
attached I necessarily must be to one who I have a
real regard for. Of course I would not write all this
to a living soul if I didn't know how secret you always

112 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

were, and how thoronghly one can trast yon and say
everything to yon which one cannot do to others.
There is no one in the world I have more respect for
than Wharton — ^you, dear, are as well aware of that
fact as any one, indeed I may say much hotter ; but
no woman respects jealousy, at least I don't for one,
and I would rather not have my friends — my best
Mends ahnsed. There ! yon see how he has ruffled
my feathers : I dare say I shall get over it, hut there's
nothing like having it out. So now as Daisy is wait-
ing for a walk, pray excuse this horrid scrawl, and
helieve me semper ideniy as papa says.

Miss Mumford read the above twice carefully
through before she folded it as carefully up and
placed it in her pocket. The habitual seriousness
of her features underwent no change; and had
one been an invisible spectator of her movements,
it would have been impossible to detect the im-
pression which this letter made upon her. It did,

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 118

however, occasion her considerable disturbance.
It was not the tone or style of the letter that
provoked her (she was too thoroughly con-
versant with Miss Seabright's character and
jaunty mode of expressing herself to think much
of that) ; but the old maid was annoyed on account
of the lover to whom she wished success. She
was annoyed on account of Helen's resentment
at Wharton's abuse of Froth (for who but Froth
could Wharton have abused P) and more than this,
she was annoyed at Helen's open avowal of
attachment to the perfidious baronet. For her
part, she had been pretty confident until now that
sooner or later Helen would become the daughter-
in-law of her own dear Mombrun. She had al-
ways wished this might happen, and the strength
of her wishes had fostered the belief. Now how-
ever these hopes sustained a shock. With all her

VOL. II. 8

114 THE HIDLANB8 AND 0THES8.

affection for Helen, an affection partly ascribaUe
to association, for the girl had grown up almost
under the shadow of her roof, she could not but
be sensible that Helen's capricious waywardness
might have serious couBequences for her friends.
After considering the matter very deUberately ahe
sat herself down to write the following letters.

" My deab Feiend," —
'Twas thus she always addressed Mombmn.

''Your last tmly kind letter should not have
remained so long unanswered had I not been con-
fined to my chamber these three days past with
an unusually severe attack. Pray do not suffer my
pecuniary affairs to occasion you so much anxiety.
Best assured I shall be well satisfied with whatever
investments you may decide upon. I have, as you
know, implicit reliance in the soundness of your
judgment; and as I myself am but a poor hand at busi-
ness, 1 am quite contented to leave the disposal of the
£1000 with you ; and must again repeat my sincere

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 115

gratitude for the amiable interest yon have exhibited
in my behalf. Of far greater moment to me just
now is the state of Hugh's prospects with respect to
H.S. I have this day received a letter from Tinselby ;
and am led to think that Sir P. is more favoured than
we had supposed. I cannot say how vastly I dislike
the man and all his modish airs. But unfortunately
to a girl so inexperienced as H. his sprightly parts
may prove too seductive for her constancy.

''It appears that ^Hugh has lately written to her,
and has stigmatized too roundly F.'s character. She, I
regret to say, seems mightily put out at this ; and under
the sting of (as we will hope) a momentary displeasure,
expatiates with no little asperity on our poor boy's
conduct. Please God, however, who ordains all for
the best, matters will wear a pleasanter aspect against
Hugh comes back.

'' Excuse a dull letter (my spirits being equal to no
better) ; and believe me, dear Friend,

" Ever yours affectionately,

" L. MUMPOBD."

** P.S. I am writing to Germany by the same post.

116 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

If, therefore, yon are in correspondence with Hngh
there will be no need to allude to any communication
with me on the above snbject, as I shall take care to
acquaint him with whatever intelligence it may be in
my power to divulge."

The second letter was to Wharton. It ran

thus : —

" My deab Hugh, —

** 1 have but little of consequence to impart to you.
Since I wrote to you last Monday se'nnight, I have
not heard a word from Tinselby until to-day when I
received a few lines from dear Helen. She is eiyoy-
ing excellent health, which I know it will give yon
pleasure to hear. Some^ reference was made to
your name ; and although it is not my practice to
cite passages from the letters of my Mends, I may so
far ease your anxiety as to state that you were spoken
of in high terms. I gathered from the same source
that a letter had lately been received from you ; in
which you had (somewhat indiscreetly, as I apprehend)
expressed yourself freely with reference to Colonel
F.'s character. This I would avoid doing in future, for

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 117

I oannot bat think such a fop as he is mnst in due
season diseover his own unworthiness.

" Forgive this little piece of caution. I am induced
to write thus much by a suspicion that your animad-
versions were not so well received as they might have
been. Indeed, they called forth some expressions in
defence of Sir P., which (though these may be set
down to the score of a spirited opposition) are not
what I would wish to recur ; for we are apt to think
of people in the way we allow ourselves to speak of
them. *

** I quite concur in the prudence of your resolve to
bide your time, and seriously feel that such proof of
deep and steady attachment ought to have weight.
And I trust it may. I shall have unchanged interest
in everything that turns up : and you may rely on my
putting you in immediate possession of any news of
importance.

** The assurance of your good faith in my regard, gave
me true pleasure ; though my opinion of your mind
and character would have prevented my expecting you
to change. I always look upon you in the light of a

118 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

trne friend, a rare possession in this trying world, and
prized accordingly. I only regret not having heen of
the use to you that I could wish.

" Yours very affectionately,

" L. M."
*'P.S. I received a letter from Mr. Mombrun not
long since. He mentioned you with his customary
affection and warm-heartedness. He writes in good
spirits ; though these I fear are subject to firequent fits
of depression."

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 119

CHAPTER VII.

Whatever might be the state of the father's
spirits^ that of the son was by no means elated
at the receipt of Miss Layinia's letter. She had
tendered her advice in the most cautions of terms^
and had hinted at Miss Seabright's displeasure^
as if Miss Seabright had but hinted this to her^
Wharton, however, who knew the old maid's
gtmrded habit of expressing herself, perceived at a
glance that Miss Mumford was more disappointed
thaa she confessed to be. Luckily for our en-
gineer, his was the very reverse of a fidgety
temperament. He now perfectly understood how

120 THE M1DLA19DS A19D OTHEBS.

precarious was his tenure of his lady love's
affections. He no longer regarded Froth as an
insignificant rival ; and looked upon himself (so
far, that is, as concerned Helen's opinion of him)
as a very ordinary individual, with nothing to
recommend him to so peerless a being, save
certain qualities which she had had no oppor-
tunity of discerning.

There was quite sufficient in his case to feed
the most ravenous appetite for misery : but though
in love, his habits of self-control enabled him to
resist the alluring sustenance. He occupied him-
self vigorously with the business on which he
had been summoned into Germany. And when
disengaged, he resolutely turned his thoughts (not
away from Miss Helen, but) from the prospect of
losing her; which he felt it would entirely
incapacitate him to ponder over. The very same

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 121

determination which forced him to declare himself,
cost what it might, enabled him to bend his will
to his judgment with a doggedness that would
have done honour to a Spartan.

The works in which he was engaged lay in the
vicinity of Aix la Chapelle; and he made this
ancient town his head-quarters. Here with
characteristic resolution he imbibed the mephitic
waters, which, as it is said, do sometimes heal the
wounds inflicted by the fiery darts of Love. Here,
dbeit not fond of music, he diligently attended
the daily concerts in the Kursaal : and wondered,
as a man of business might, how such a host of
tradesmen could find so many hours at midday
for fiddling, smoking, maitrank, coffee, schnaps,
dominoes, and talk. He noted the amazing ugli-
ness of the women ; but it must be remembered
that he compared every woman^s face with a

122 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

certain pattern which threw all others into shade.
Great was the variety of his own compatriots,
whose elegant peculiarities also helped to divert
his thoughts from melancholy. No well-bred son
of Albion can be otherwise than gratified with
the superiority of his countrymen over the native
inhabitants of foreign cities. The charming
neglect of personal appearance^ the perfect ease
of manner in every place of public resort, the
marked contempt for the silly superstitions
exhibited in their churches, etc., are all pleasing
evidences of British superiority, and must as such
be exhilarating to that most gloomy of human
beings — an Englishman in love. Not however
with his own countrymen did the proud young
engineer condescend to associate. The only one of
these whose acquaintance was agreeable to him, in
his present frame of mind, was that of an accom-

THE MIDLANDS AKD OTHERS. 123

plished and delightful old gentleman^ who had
resided about thirty years in the neighbouring
town of Burtscheidy and who procured a modest
livelihood by teaching the English tongue. With
this pleasing and somewhat eccentric person
Mr. Wharton became exceedingly intimate. Mr.
Spilman^ so the language master was named^
happened to be an excellentchess-player, and many
were the hard battles fought by these two^ over
cigars and coffeoi in their respective lodgings^ or
at some favourite gast-haus^ where they took their
meals together. Occasionally, when Wharton
happened to have a favourable packet from Miss
Mumfordy he would invite his friend to a feast at
the table d^h6te; where Mr. Spilman abstemi-
ously partook of the greasy viands^ but did
not refiise the delicious Schartzhofberger, with
which his host supplied him. By-and^by^ as the

124 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

spring came on^ the two would spend the afitemoon
in the pleasant gardens of the Hospital ; or hire a
wagen and drive to the beautiful woods of Bond-
heim. Here they would listen to the nightingales,
or inspired by generous Moselwein and the sooth-
ing perfume of tobacco, Spilman would quaintly
recount, with surprising detail, endless histories of
countless individuals with whom he had come in
contact during his residence in Aachen.

But despite their intimacy, and the firequency
of these junketings, and the many confidential
hours they spent together, not one syllable did
Wharton ever breathe about his love affair. Not that
Mr. Spilman was devoid of sympathy ; he would
have listened with the greatest interest to Whar-
ton's story, and any other lover would have found
infinite relief in deluging such patient ears with
the boundless ocean of love's distress. But it is

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 125

a significant fact that Wharton kept his sentiment
to himself. In truth, with the one exception of Miss
Mumford (for Mombnin was not strictly speaking
in his confidence) he never mentioned the subject
to, nor sought consolation from, a single being.

Mr. Spilman himself however was communi-
cative enough. One day, when they were strolling
together in the pleasant paths of the Louisberg,
the old gentleman narrating as usual, and Whar-
ton wondering when he should receive another
letter from Miss Mumford, the engineer's attention
was suddenly arrested by the mention of Mombrun.

"Who?** says he, "who did you say —
Mombrun?''

" Yes,*' says Spilman, " do you know a man
of that name P ''

"I do indeed,'' says Wharton, "but it may
not be the same."

126 THE MIDLANDS AND OIHSBS.

'* The name/' says Spilman, '' is so uncommon
that probably it is. So I will say no more about
him.''

"Nay/* returned the other, smiling, "he is no
particular friend of mine. True, I have known
Mombrun all my life, and I fsuicy he was an ac-
qaintance of my father's also, he ofif;en speaks as
if he had been : but there is nothing much in
common between us. He is not the sort of man
I have much respect for."

'^ In that case," says Spilman, " he may be the
man I mean. The Mombrun I speak of, would
be about sixty now, I suppose, perhaps more ; a
tall stout man, with sandy hair and bushy
whiskers."

'' As to the hair, there is not much of that left,
and the little he has is dyed black. He has a
broad flat face, and notably small eyes."

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 127

" Ay, that's he, I make no doubt/'
"And what of him P " asked Wharton.
"PeAaps I had better hold my tongue,"
replies his friend.

" Not at all : I shall neither be astonished nor
offended by anything you have to tell of him.*'

" Well," says Mr. Spilman, " I was about to teU
you — this Mombrun arrived at Aix soon after
the first year of my coming here. At that time
it was my custom to dine every day at the Zaffee
Duensing — ^we played the mtmo there two or three
nights ago, you may remember ; and Mr. Mom-
brun generally dined at Duensing's at the same
hour. He is, or was, a person of remarkably
affiible manners ; and, unlike the majority of our
fellow-countrymen, he invariably saluted me with
courtesy, and engaged at once in conversation in
the friendliest way imaginable. I became pre-

128 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

possessed in the man's favour ; for lie was brimming
over with cordiality, and what the French expres-
sively call bonhomie — ^a word for which we have
no precise synonym, though perhaps ' good-nature '
is as near akin to it as any.''

" Well P " says Wharton, impatiently.

"I beg your pardon. Mdmbrun's friendliness,
I must add, his conviviality — ^he could tell a story
(and invent one) better than any man I ever
met — induced me to court his society. Being
myself a poor man, I was flattered by his willing-
ness to associate with me, especially as he knew
both from my lips and his own observation what
my humble circumstances were. As to Azis means I
had as yet no power of judging. He lived neither
extravagantly nor the reverse. To be sure,
his conversation was frequently interlarded with
the names of many noblemen, with whom he gave

THE MIDLANDS AKD OTHERS. 129

me to understand he was vastly intimate. He
also spoke of having travelled on the continent
with his own carriages and retinue ; and I think
it was in Italy, while on his way to the Duke of
Alma Viva, that his wife, so he told me, lost nearly
two thousand pounds worth of diamonds, by the
hinder portion of his carriage — ^the * rumble * it
is called, I believe — ^becoming detached, without
their knowledge, in consequence of the speed at
which he always travelled. He talked a good deal
too of his country-seat and castle, and left his
cards right and left with " Ch&teau Mombrun *'
printed on them. The ch&teau, if I remember
rightly, was situate in the island of Guernsey or
Jersey, I will not be certain which. As however
I, before this, had met with persons who talked
largely of wealth which they themselves did not
possess, I accepted these statements with caution.

VOL. II. 9

130 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHEBS.

Nevertheless I had no sufficient reason to disbelieye
them. And as to Mr. Mombrun's outward appear-
ance, he was always weU dressed — ^I may say
sumptuously so, after the manner, as I suppose, of
English noblemen. His hat, for instance, was
of the style much worn in the days of his late
majesty, wide in the brim and curred consider-
ably more than is now the fashion. His jabot was
unusually extensive, and he wore a massive gold
chain, which was displayed with careM negligence
about the velvet front and collar of his surtout."

" Ah !" laughed Wharton "the very man, and a
pretty charlatan he looks."

" At first," pursued Mr. Spilman, " he occupied
lodgings in the Harscampstrasse, but exchanged
these after ten days or so for a suite of apart-
ments in one of the first hotels in the town, kept
at that time by Herr Zuckertort ; who, I must tell

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 131

you, had a yery liandsome wife and a still prettier
daughter.

''In these new quarters Mr. Mombrun contrived
to live for some time in the greatest luxury ; but,
as I subsequently ascertained, without making
any payment whatever for value received. It was
during this period that he caUed one evening at
my lodgings, and after much periphrasis and re-
peated floods of tears informed me that owing to
suddai and unexpected reverses, he found himself
for the moment— for the moment, mind — without
funds adequate even to his immediate require-
ments. He stated that this temporary difficulty
threatened to involve him in the most compli-
cated misfortunes : that the mere want of a five
thaler note to settle his laundress' bill, and a few
groschen to pay the porter for his letters, would
so expose his forlorn situation that his credit

132 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

would be utterly blasted^ and that an ejectment
from the hotel would enevitably ensue. The pic-
ture he painted of his disastrous condition, the
solemn asseverations he made respecting remit-
tances from England, the touching assurances
of his intense regard for myself, and the irresis-
tible force of his appeal to my generosity, can
only be conceiyedby one who is, or was, acquainted
with this remarkable person."

"And you gave him the money P" asked
Wharton, laughing.

" And I gave him the money, sir : which from
that day to this I need not tell you I have never
seen the colour of again. Nearly six months
now elapsed (I spent the interval with a pupil at
Spa) before I again set eyes upon my Mend.
One afternoon I chanced to be sipping my coffee
in company with an acquaintance, when Mom-

\

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 133

briin entered tlie Kurgarten and walked close
by us. I saw that Ife observed me ; but lie speedily
turned his head in the opposite direction.

" ' You see that man/ said my companion, ' he
ayoides me, because some time back I lent him ten
thalers, which he has never yet repaid/

" * By heaven ! ' said I, ' he avoids me for a very
similar reason. What/ I inquired, ' do you know
of him P And how came you to lend him money P '
My friend, who had starred at the hotel where
Mombrun had lived, informed me that, like my-
self, he had been captivated with that gentleman's
address, and had paid for the pleasure pretty
much after the same fashion as I had. 'But,'
said he, ' I soon began to suspect that I had been
his dupe, and set myself to watch the fellow's
behaviour towards others; fully resolved to ex-
pose his rascality, if his conduct should deserve

134 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

that name. In a short time I discovered that he
was paying his court to the landlord's daughter^
who gave him plenty of encouragement, and evi-
dently reciprocated his attachment with sincerity
and warmth. Mr. Zuckertort was fuUy aware of
the state of his daughter's heart; and being
impressed with a deep respect for Mombrun's
distinguished position in EngUsh society, did not
hesitate to favour the prospect of a marriage.
It is not to be supposed that under these circum-
stances the courteous landlord would venture to
incommode his future noble son-in-law (through
whom he coimted on an introduction to the high-
est circles in London) with the vulgar charges for
accommodation. For several months therefore
Mr. Mombrun enjoyed all the luxuries which Mr.
Zuckertort and his family were able to provide.
Even 1/ said my companion, ' began to think the

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 135

affair would end respectably. The greater was
my surprise when I suddenly discovered that our
hero was making desperate advances to the Frau
Gastwirthin herself: and so fascinating did
he prove, that the fair lady seemed even more
amorous and more pKant than her daughter.
Scarcely an evening passed but the fond pair
met, as though by accident, in the shady bowers
of madam's private garden; and the matter
was assuming so obtrusive an aspect that the
notion of putting Zuckertort on his guard sug-
gested itself seriously to my conscience. I was
however saved this trouble. The imhappy hus-
band made the discovery for himself : a violent
explosion immediately ensued, and Mombrun,
unable to pay a farthiug in the pound, was clapt
into jail under sentence of detention until his
debts were paid.'

136 THE MIDLANDS AlH) OTHEBS.

'^I asked how long he had been at liberty; and
what could induce him to remain where he was
so well known and so little trusted.

"*As to his liberty/ replied my Mend,
^it is but two days since he got out of prison.
Goodness knows how long he might haye
stayed there if his prosecutor had not applied
for his release. The law here is, that the credi-
tor provide for the sustenance of his debtor (on
prison fare, of course) so long as the former
thinks proper to keep the unpaying offender
incarcerated. Now, as there was no hope of
payment in this case, but, on the contrary,
nothing but increased loss, Mr. Zuckertort, being
naturally a phlegmatic person, wisely suppressed
his yengeance, and saved his pocket. But I must
tell you the regulation fees were by no means the
only costs to which the honest landlord was sub<

THE MTDLA19DS AND OTHERS. 137

jected. Strange to say^ Fraulein Zuckertort in-
sisted on the poor sufferer being supplied with
proper nourishment from the hotel: answering

«

her indignant father's remonstrances with well-
feigned symptoms of hysteria and decline. Nor
was the Frau mamma behindhand with her
proofs of constancy. The daily basket sent to
the prisoner's cell was lined by the careful ladies
with danties from the table d'hote^ and a bottle
of excellent wine to cheer the culprit's disconso-
late heart. But so contentedly did the latter bear
his treatment^ that when Zuckertort refused to
keep him any longer shut up^ Mombrun assured
the authorities he saw no prospect of his payings
and adyised them strongly to detain him where he
was. These worthies naturally declined to keep the
gentleman at their own expense. The consequence
is^ as you see^ he is again at liberty; and is doubt-

138 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHEBS.

Ies8 looking about at this minute in searcli of a
fresh and fatuous pigeon/ '^

Wharton laughed heartily at Mr. Spilman's
account of Mombrun's adventures. They were
just what might have happened now, so far, at
least, as the respectability of them was concerned.
Alas ! the day had gone by (however still willing
in spirit) when this Lothario could support him-
self by the fascination of his personal charms.
Though Wharton little knew how much the old
reprobate's present subsistence owed to the
unchanging admiration of Miss Mumford ; still
less did he dream that the man whose backslid-
ings afforded him such entertainment was no other
than his own father : a father, too, it must be
confessed, who, with all his faults, possessed
a tender heart, and loved this very son more

^

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 139

CHAPTER VIII.

While Wharton was thtis occupjring his time
between business and amusement, when winter
passed away, and spring was advancing, and
summer coming on, matters were ripening with
the year amongst those upon whose conduct the
young man's destiny depended.

4

At Tinselby the marquis was clutching at
every opportunity to aggravate poor Daisy^s
sorrows by the utterance of his own. If hope-
less love be the most gnawing, the most corrosive,
of aU cares, how immeasurably is its yirulence
heightened by the venomous sting of a guilty

140 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

conscience. Could Daisy have returned the
young man's love with honesty^ it would not
have signified what obstacles stood between them ;
she would have hugged and caressed her passion
with supreme internal bliss through all the most
desperate phases of his difficulties. As it was,
she had to suffer without hope^ without consola-
tion. If for a moment she permitted her fancy
to revel in the paradise which Northern's image
soon conjured up, she speedily became aware of
the " wily adder '' coiled amid the sweet flowers,
waiting with "hellish rancour imminent'' to
despoil her of innocence and peace for ever. To
no friend could she resort for comfort or ad-
vice. Such love as hers must either be concealed
or quelled. Every woman would condemn her
as immercifully as she — Daisy — condemned her-
self. To a man it was impossible to speak. In

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 141

moments of weakness she did tbink of taking
Evans into confidence^ and treating him as a
father or confessor. Oh^ that she could make
confession! What if she should tnm Catholic on
purpose P But these notions vanished as quickly
as they came. Evans was no priest, no father ;
and if he were, who on earth could bear her bur-
den but herself. There was nothing for it but to
conceal or conquer. Both were equally intolerable.
To suffer as she suffered was dreadful. To look
forward to absolute indifference was — worse.

«

And was Lord Northern's lot more enviable
than Daisy's P Unless it be a comfort to endea-
vour to think right what one knows to be wrong,
his state was more deplorable than hers. She
struggled and prayed for herself and for him ;
she made repeated resolutions; and so far as
they related to her outward actions (the throbbing

142 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

of her heart she could not control) she stead-
fastly adhered to them ; and received the reward
which never fails such conduct. But he, poor
lad^ made no efforts of the kind. He clung to
his passion with might and main ; tearing at his
chains until they chafed and galled and maddened
him. ISoi all the Ebelians and Perfectionists in the
world ever invented more ingenious subterfuges
for 'shedding a mild lustre over adultery' j not all
the French novelists ever found such pleas for
' hating your neighbour, and loving your neigh-
bour's wife ; ' no moralist ever inveighed more
bitterly against the wicked prostitution of barter-
ing love for rank. It was no vulgar carnal love,
look you, that filled his immaculate heart. Love
eternal was what he yearned for — spiritual union,
marriage, such only as heaven could sanction — a
covenant between soul and soul ! Was she not

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 143

his by priority of choice ? by the sacred innocence
of her first affection ? by the unspoken pledges
which had passed between them a thousand times
before she had been duped by falsehood and
hypocrisy? Why should that old Pharisee be
respected P He — ^the assassin of their happiness,
the profligate corrupter of innocence, who had
never harboured a thought beyond the indulgence
of his own infernal lust ! . . . .

Was it not enough to drive him mad ? When
he knew too that she loved him. She had never

confessed it ? No, not in so many words. But
what need of words? Had she ever denied it?
No, because she would not lie; because She knew
he would not and could not believe her if she did
deny it. Too late indeed ! were those her words?
Never! Let them fly to the farthest corners of the
earth ! Let them live by the labour of their own

144 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

hands : in the wlldemess : in the primeval forests —
away from the accursed conyentionalities of society.
Together and alone ! And so on ; and so on.

iN'otwithstanding these exquisite visions of
heaven, the unhappy young man's present state
much more closely resembled what is general^
supposed to belong to another place P What
availed it to rave in this way, and exculpate
himself by reviling old De OrecyP Do you
think he succeeded in blinding himself to his own
treachery? Do you suppose his pride did not
drag him through the mud when he reflected that
his unvarnished purpose was to seduce the wife
of one whose salt he was daily eating P whose
hand he was daily grasping in token of friendship,
or at least of honesty and straightforwardness P
Mind you. Lord Northern had the making of a
gentleman in him : in his lucid intervals he

TE(M WmjL^pB JVirp OTHERS. 145

Booraeil a dirty action witli ine&ble disdain;

fbadng the.loss/of his self-respect more than he

. Sw^ either c^th or the d^vil* Do you think then

^t.he did not criiige wh^ he remembered his

own diqilieity P I know there are plenty of men
who are case-hardened, who laugh at qualms of
this kind, who go systematically to work wit^
their seduetions — scientifically to work, bring-
ing all their former experiences and carefully
stored knowledge to bear on the poor undefended
little fortresses, that haye no chance ^against such
practised engineers. But even such accomplished
scoundrels as these (or some of them, I suppose)
had a conscience once ; nay, perhaps, feel remorse
ey^i now, when burning tears and broken hearts
remind them of the ruin they took such pains to
work. But I^orthem is young at the business of
brutality as yet. Besides he has stuff in him that
VOL. n. 10

146 THE MIDLAl^DS AND OTHERS.

Will always save him from confirmed viUany ; and

at this very time he is miserable, not solely

because Daisy de Crecy is invincible, but because

in his heart of hearts he feels that he is behaving

like a scoundrel. It is the underhand part of the

business that shames him. He has to watch his

opportunities, to waylay her on the staircases and

in the passages, to seek her when alone in the

drawing-room or library, to follow her stealthily

to the pleasure-ground. And every success in

these attempts is attained fraudulently, in a mean,

sneaking way, which his better nature rebels

against and hates. If De Crecy were but youthful

like himself, and could meet him as met the

knights of old, what more would he ask than to

fight him to the death P He would fight with him

like any lion or wild bull, let us say, animated

by a passion for *' spiritual union/'

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHEBS. 147

It is evident this state of things could not last
for ever. There are Fakirs who mangle and
lacerate themselves with pleasure for the sake of
idols which neither hear^ nor see, nor feel: of
the female sex there are millions. But Northern's
fiery nature could not brook protracted suffering.
A crisis of some sort was inevitable. He was
rushing blindfold onwards like a horse that has
lost his rider ; but whether he would knock his
brains out against the wall of difSlculty, or dash
himself to pieces over the precipice of possessioui
was equally puzzling to foretell, or hinder.

These were fearful days for the unhappy Daisy.
She had to avoid and pacify and control Lord
Northern. She had to deal also with her husband,
whose jealousy and temper grew more violent
from day to day. Frightful were the scenes
which passed between them in private. Shameful

148 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

were the charges he brought against her. Awful
was the language in which those charges' were
expressed. In vain Lady de Crecy protested her
innocence. In vain she implored her husband to
forbid the offender his house : the wretched man
had not moral courage enough to turn a guilty
servant off; much less the future Duke of
Midland, whom he feared almost as much as he
disliked. He abused her in terms she had never
heard before, — ^in terms she scarcely understood^
so foul and infamous was their import. At such
times her indignation would overcome her powers
of endurance and self-restraint ; and she would
hurl against the infuriated and pitiM old man her
never-failing thunder-bolt — ^the threat of instant
separation. Then followed grovelling contrition,
drivelling protestations of impotent love, dutoh-
ixLgs of reluctant hands, bended knees, senile and

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 149

infirm stoopings to kiss the pretty stamping feet^
and all manner of exhibitions ludicrous in some
measure, but sickening in reaUty, and full of
sorrow.

The reconciliations which followed these out-
breaks, if reconciliations they could be called,
were not lasting in e£^t« I^orthern's hatred of
pretence led him to behave almost defiantly in the
£eu26 of Lord De Crecy. In fact, it was only on
Daisy's account that he forced himself to observe
anything like restraint. Every hour almost some
fresh cause provoked the jealous husband's sus-
picions. As always happens in similar cases, he
wronged his wifea thousand times a day with
false and groundless imputations. Every move-
ment of hers conveyed to his festering mind some
meditated infidelity. Every time she put pen to
papw, it was to her lover that she was writing a

150 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

bilkt doux. Every note she opened was an assig-
nation. Sometimes lie would directly question her.
At others he would watch and pry in secret.
Frequently he would open her doors with noise-
less caution and enter suddenly^ thinking to
surprise her guilt.

One day as he did this, Daisy was sitting alone
upon her sofa. The instant the door opened she
thrust what she was reading under the cushion.
Despite her quickness, Lord De Crecy saw the
movement. A fiendish expression cramped his
pale and withered features. But he was more
courteous than usual. Daisy hoped her husband
had not observed her hiding. His lordship spoke
about their guests, proposed a drive in the open
carriage, asked her whether she had seen the
papers. And on her replying that she had not
been in the library, where they were placed, he

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 151

prayed her, "by the way/' to go and fetch the
"Chronicle," which contained a paragraph that
he desired to show her.

She left the room, thinking as she went, "He
did not see it. I would not for worlds have had
him see it.'' She hastened on her errand. But
Lord de Crecy had ample time for inspection.
As the famished tiger springs upon his prey, the
vengeance-thirsting old man craving proof, quiv-
ering with rage and anticipated discovery, darts
frantically at his prize. Dashing the cushion to
the floor he seizes — ^what P A letter from Lord
Northern P A lock of lover's hair P A copy of
amorous verses P No ! my Lord de Crecy, your
lordship's wife neither seeks nor finds her secret
consolation in such sweet but poisonous stimulants.
Look well at what you hold ! and if your trem-
bling hands permit your £zzy eyes to read, turn.

152 THE MIDLANDS AKD OTHSBB.

I beseeoh you, to those tear-blistered pages ; per-
clumce the very passage yonr wronged and angel
wife was reading may touch, and, touching, heal
your leprous soul : '' Blesed areihe pure in heart,
for ihey shall see God."

It was the Bible he had captured. The wretoh
was almost paralyzed.

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 153

CHAPTER IX.

Such an incident^ one would tliink, must stamp
some impression^ however faint^ upon a mind not
altogether deprived of reason. But presently I
shall have to show how soon it was effaced from
Lord de Crecy^s memory. Meantime^ conceive how
intolerably irksome it was, under this pressure of
affliction, to be compelled perpetually to masquer-
ade it amid the frivolous obligations of gay and
humdrum company. Yet, as every private esta-
blishment has its skeleton-cupboard, so in every
festive congregation, Melpomene is present, dis-
guised in Thalia's visor.

154 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. .

It IS hard to say to which of them the burden
of etiquette was most oppressive; whether to
l^orthem^ who, although he could command more
freedom, had nothing to divert him ; or to Lord
and Lady de Crecy, who, unable to escape from
their guests, were nevertheless kept by their
duties from the pangs of solitary meditation.

A looker-on, like Evans, who sat comfortably
in his stall while the play was being acted, must
have been highly entertained by many of the
scenes of this little comedy. Quietly observing
all that passed, he could see how the principal
actors were performing their difficult parts ; and
also notice, with amusement, the incidental busi-
ness of the subordinates. What a medley of the
laughable and the serious was assembled in that
small domestic circle ! There was Mrs. Seabright,
thoroughly satisfied with the constant proximity

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 155

of her daughter to the object of her ambitions ;
seeing only what she desired to see, cackling in
the gentle duchess' willing ear, and persuading
that kind lady, and herself too, that it was all
going on as well as they could wish; "which, con-
sidering the dangers that beset a young man like
the marquis (not to say, as all young men were
better married), was fortunate enough : for the
dears would make the handsomest and happiest
couple in Great Britain. It was a blessing too
that Helen was not extravagant; his lordship
being a little inclined that way would not matter
so much, seeing her daughter had been so care-
fully brought up. And this was all her doing.
Had Helen's education been left to Mr. Seabright,
there was no saying what might have come of it :
for in all her bom days she never see a man so
thoughtless about money as her John. He didn't

156 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS,

know what money was no more 'an the babe un-
born. Why, bless her ! (the duchess) she (Mrs, S.)
had found the dear cretur' hunting the other day
for half-a-crown in a drawer Ml of sixpences and
shillings. And laws I if Helen had a mind to it,
he wouldn't care what she spent, not he. Why,
who'd believe it ; when them two dears was ohil-
dren, he used to put 'em in the comer for punish-
ment ; ajid then because he couldn't a-bear to vex
'em, he'd give 'em sixpence a-piece to come out
again. But they never wouldn't stir, bless 'em,
imder at least a shilling."

Then there was his grace, as calm and cheerful
in the storm as could be. He loved his son and
Daisy too ; but he had seen so many fierce passions
bum themselves out, and leave nothing but harm-
less ashes, that he looked upon his boy's distemper
as a natural consequence of youth. How the

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 157

matter would end, lie did not vex himself to
speculate. At seventy-three we leave the future
to those whom it may concern. Life is short,
and the grave is always open. So he played back-
gammon with the parson, and took his duchess
for her daily stroll, and occasionally took tea with
little Sybil Finch.

This was the old man's chief delight ; and it
was an important ceremony, I warrant you. On
these occasions Jliss Sybil presided at a table about
eighteen inches high ; seated in a proportionable
arm-chair at one end, while the duke sat on a
footstool at the other. The tea things being the
property of Miss Finch's doll, the whole set would
have packed comfortably in his grace's waistcoat
pocket. Throughout the ceremonial the strictest
formality was observed, and when the banquet was
concluded and madam's tiny hands and cheeks

158 THE MIDLA14DS AND OTHEKS.

were divested of bread and butter, the pair re-
moved to the duke's own room, and there amused
themselves delightfully.

The golden knick-knacks upon the dressing-table
— relics, I suppose, of some fifty years ago — afforded
our little maiden inexhaustible amusement. She
would rub the soft shaving brush against her
chubby cheeks, and seriously inquire whether she
would have a beard when she was as old as the
Duke of Midland. To which her friend replied,
that many an old woman had a bigger beard than
his. The number of toys concealed amongst the
* duke's coats and linen was remarkable. Whenever
Miss Sybil visited him, she went a-hunting in his
wardrobe ; and if her visit was expected, you may
be sure she never drew it blank. It was indeed
amusing to see them both while this sport was
going on. The old man^s face beamed with tender-

THE ^IDLAI^DS AND OTHERS. 159

ness and fun as he watched the little nymph steal-
ing on tiptoe towards the Aest of drawers, and
mysteriously whispering (so as not to let the toys
know that she was coming), " I wonder what the
fairies have hidden here to-day." It was always
the fairies who had put the toys there ; and the
fairies were great favourites in consequence. The
little maiden was never tired of hearing tales about
them^ and as the old gentleman's imagination was
somewhat past its prime, and his memory impaired
by seventy years neglect of this department of
literature, he was sadly puzzled to satisfy the in-
satiable demand for it. Miss Sybil moreover never
forgot the smallest detail in any story she had
once heard. The adventures of Messrs. Avenant,
and Leander, and Eiquet, and King Pippin, were
historical truths which were not to be tampered
with. So that whenever the narrator surrep-

160 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

titiously or inadyertently borrowed an incident
from thje Arabian IHglits^ which belonged to the
Yellow Dwarf or the Invisible Prince, he was
severely reprimanded by the little critic, and
convicted of base imposture.

Mr. Evans came in for a share of these enter-
tainments, partly in consequence of these grave
defaults. He was a far better hand at an im-
promptu than the duke; and as he thoroughly
enjoyed the society of this inseparable couple, he
was always ready to succour his embarrassed
Mend; who, I really believe, listened to his stories
with nearly as much interest as did the child*

But this quiet and shrewd observer, who thus
amused himself with the peculiarities of those
around him, was especially diverted by the pom-
posity and affected gaiety of the imlucky man
whom he knew to-be writhing all the while with

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 161

the sharpest torments. Lord de Crecy's feeble
essays at literary conversation with him, Evans ; his
farming talk^ in which he displayed almost equal
ignorance, with the duke ; his views on education,
as delivered to Mr. Seabright ; his statistics with
Mr. Terrier ; his gossip and scandal with Froth
(wherein alone he was at home) ; were subjects of
constant mirth to our jocose observer. The old
goose's vanity was ever uppermost in spite of his
incessant anguish. I^Tothing would satisfy him
but he must play the part of an accomplished and
handsome fascinator. It was wonderful to see
him bending over the fair shoulders of Miss
Helen, curling his waxed mustaches, and fancy-
ing that Lord St. Kitts and Percy Froth and the
rest of the young men were biting their nails in
envy of him. Heavens ! what vapid nonsense he
whispered in her ears; and how boisterously be

VOL. II. 11

162 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

laughed at his own facetious wit. Then see him
at the piano turning over the leaves for the war-
bling little widow. He hates music^ it is worse than
mere noise to him, it irritates his fretted nerves,
and upsets his jaundiced liver ; yet his gestures
are full of rapture. " How charming, ah ! how
lovely! what is that last song? (trying to read the
title), *0 Come, tome;' yes, yes, of course! I
thought I recognized it; there's nothing so lovely
as Italian music. Do sing it once more.'' And
the jolly Miss Lanyard, who catches Mr. Evans'
eye, stuffs her pocket-handkerchief into her mouth,
while the meek little vocalist repeats that familiar
melody, " come to me when daylight sets."
But his lordship never discovers his mistake, for
he is glaring now at the unfortunate Daisy, by
whose side Lord Northern has taken a seat.

Evans' panoramic view includes all these in-

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 163

teresting details; nor did he overlook the perform-
ances of that admirable comedian, Mr. Terrier.
There was something about this luckless wight
that Evajis could not help liking ; although here
too he had his quiet laugh. In spite of Terrier's
readiness, his anxiety rather, to quarrel with his
neighbours, there was not a more generous tem-
pered fellow breathing. Ever on the look out for
an insult, he walked the world, as it were, without
a skin, and with a pistol in each hand. Quixo-
tically chivalrous in all his notions, he could not
understand the latitude others gave themselves,
and regarded the absence of punctilio as a want
of friendliness or good breeding. Essentially
himible-minded and modest in the main, he was
remarkably sensitive upon two points — his pedi-
gree, and his personal appearance. The fact is^
he had terrible misgivings about both. When-

164 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

ever, therefore, reference was made by accident to
either of these subjects, no matter how remote
people's thoughts were from him, he instantly
applied the comments to himself; and assumed
an intention on the speaker's part to ridicule
and wound his feelings. These habits often led
him to resent insults which had not been offered :
but when convinced of his mistake, he suffered
intense confusion: and would express, in un-
measured terms, the abject sense of his own folly,
and exhibit besides the warmest attachment to the
individual whom the minute before he had longed
to throttle. His devotion to the fair sex — ^the
young and beautiful, that is — was both passionate
and indiscriminate, and the raw places in his temper
helped to stimulate his susceptibility. The com-
petition of such men as Sir Percy and Lord St.
Kitts, obliged him to convince himself that he

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 165

was in nowise their inferior. It was absolutely
necessary to his self-respect (which it would have
been death to him to forfeit) to obtain from the
objects of their admiration some proofs of his own
irresistibility. Did they swagger in'his presence ;
did they pay court to Miss Lanyard, or Miss
Helen ; he would swagger and make love with the
biggest " swell'* amongst them; and if they gave
him any airs, he would challenge them, by Jove !
and send a bullet through their heads as often as
they pleased !

Taking into account Sir Percy Froth's demean-
our to this irritable gentleman, we may easily con-
ceive how the two were always on the verge of
quarrelling. It will be remembered that a rupture
did nearly happen at the servants* ball at Tram-
ways. Mr. Terrier had then resolved to take the
colonel's life next morning. The colonel, however,

166 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

had apologized. But since then Sir Percy had
indemnified himself by repeated proYOcations.
Terrier was more or less a physical obstacle to his
Ute-OrteUa with Helen. Froth was therefore as
anxious to give offence as the other was to take it.
While they were both in this warlike &ame of
mind an incident occurred^ which is recorded in
the next chapter.

THE MIDLANDS AND 0THEE5 167

CHAPTER X.

Whenever it could be managed without detri-
ment to the conviviality of others, to which the
Duke of Midland ever made his actions subser-
vient, a whist-table was got up for the old noble-
man's special pleasure. Q-enerally speaking, the
elders joined him ; and amongst them Mr. Sea-
bright. This night, however, Mrs. Lanyard had
engaged the parson in a game of chess ; and the
four who sat down to play were the Duke, Sir
Percy Froth, the Admiral, and Mr. Terrier. On
cutting for partners it fell out that the two
enemies were drawn together as allies.

Now the admiral was fond of speculation : and

168 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

confident in his partner's skill, lie challenged
Froth to play for "pounds and fivers." The
colonel was by no means eager to accept these
stakes : but trusting to his luck, which might
possibly not suffer from the shortsightedness of
his opponents, he hesitated at first, but finally
agreed. Mr. Terrier, be it known, was not a first-
rate player. To be sure, he did his best to remem-
ber what was out. He arranged and rearranged
his hand, turned this card up and that card down;
but after a round or two was played these aids
did not avail him. One game grew complicated
with another, till at last his memory was reduced
to inextricable confusion. This state of Terrier's
faculties was not improved by Froth's acknow-
ledgment of his endeavours. Now an appeal
to the ceiling, accompanied by a groan ; now a
" Good Heavens !" of astonishment, which con-

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 169

yeyed ineffable disgust. But a blow on the head
with a cudgel would have served as well to clear
poor Terrier's brains. Besides these distractions,
the admiral, per contra, was in the highest spirits;
and did not mend the condition of his adversaries
by his own incessant jabber. While the game
was going on, he gave the duke a description of
a new company just formed for converting conger
eels into turtle ; and of another (by which he
hoped to make a fortune) for picking oakimi by
machinery. From this he got to corporal punish-
ment ; and informed Sir Percy Froth that when
he was captain of the " John Dory " he u^ed to
flog his crew in regular rotation. But notwith-
standing the unsuitableness of these remarks, they
did not divert his own attention from the game
and when, after winning almost every point, the
inevitable revoke at last was made, the wary

170 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

sailor at once detected it; calling at the same
time, " Two trebles and the rub/'

"Yes/' says Sir Percy Froth, with wonderful
sang-froid^ " 'tis not easy to win with three men
playing against you; though (this he added as
if reflecting to himself) one of them should
happen to be the d — dest fool aKve/*

"Sir/* exclaims Mr. Terrier, jumping up as
red as the ace of hearts, ^'did you intend to
apply that epithet to me.*'

^' I certainly did not intend it for the Duke of
Midland, nor for Admiral Lanyard.'*

'' Then I am to imderstand that it was meant
for me,'' rejoins Terrier, half suffocated with the
effort to imitate Froth's coolness.

''You may understand what you please,"
drawls Sir Percy, ^' It was meant for no one to
whom it was not applicable."

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 171

" Then, sir, give me leave to tell you that you
are "

*' Hush, hush ! Terrier,'* says the duke, laying
his hand goodnaturedly on his agent's arm, ^^not
in the drawing-room, my friend. Besides, you hear
what Froth says, the oflfensive word was not
meant for any one to whom it was not appropriate*
You don't mean to say that you are — eh ? Ha !
ha ! why you silly fellow ! There, look there (the
duke whispers). Miss Nelly wants a candle; Froth
will get it for her, if you do not look sharp."

Lady de Grecy had observed the disturbance,
and, it being rather late, she caused a general
move with a view to stop the quarrel. For the
time, the withdrawing of the ladies had the
desired effect. Sir Percy took no more notice of
his angry partner, but hastened to provide Miss
Seabright with a light, and mutter a few tender

172 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

words as she went away. As Lady de Crecy
wished the gentlemen good-night, she anxiously
noticed the looks of the two foes : and the white
or rather yellow hue of Mr. Temer^s complexion
convinced her that he, for one, was only waiting
till she was gone to renew the quarrel. Bold as
a true heroine where moral courage was required,
she had a thoroughly feminine terror of war and
carnage. When therefore she reached her room
she turned over a dozen schemes for reconciling
the belligerents, and averting the catastrophe
which she so much feared. She had half a mind
to seek her husband, and bid him see to the keep-
ing of the peace. But there were two objections
to this project. In the first place, it would be
next to impossible to induce him to interfere in
other people's feuds. In the second, Lord de
Crecy had that very evening given fresh instances

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 173

#

of his own ire ; and had behaved in such a
manner as to cause apprehension of one of those
dreadful outbreaks which she, poor creature, was
always labouring to avoid. Under these circum-
stances there was no speaking to him; and for

f
the same reason, no communicating with Lord

Northern. She hoped, however, that the duke^
would not leave Froth and Terrier alone ; and
thought perhaps his Grace might get Mr. Sea-
bright or Mr. Evans to help in setting matters
straight. Still, however, she felt so imeasy that
she postponed the services of her maid; and,
dressed as she was, determined to descend the
back stairs, (so as not to meet the gentlemen
going to bed) and listen in the library to what
was going on.

Lady de Crecy's anticipations were not long
in being verified. Directly the majority of the

174 THE MIDLANDS A17D OTHEBS.

gentlemen, including the host, retired, Mr. Terrier
strode up to the baronet, and said, " Sir Percy
Froth, you this night used language to me, which,
as a gentleman and a man of honour, I cannot
suffer to pass unnoticed. Your insult was given
in public, I therefore demand a public apology."

" Public ! " sneers the colonel, "what the

does the fool mean by public? I suppose

he thinks he is in a public-house. To judge by
his manners, one would suppose he had never
been out of one."

" If that is your opinion," cries Mr. Terrier,
"take that, and that," and first with the right
hand, then with the left, the exasperated agent
fetched the baronet a swinging box on each side
of his face.

Lord Northern and Mr. Evans both witnessed
this rapid act ; but before either of them had time

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHEHS. 175

to interfere, Froth, now quivering with rage,
snatched up a Turkish dagger which lay beside
him on a table of curiosities, and rushed at
Terrier with the intention, probably, of only
wounding him. A formidable scuffle now ensued,
in which, never since the days of Hector and
AchiUes, were two combatants animated with
more deadly hate. Whatever might have been
the armed man's purpose, the violence of the
struggle made the ugly blade almost equally dan-
gerous to both, and any attempt to part them
might have been as perilous as shooting at a
tiger while carrying off a friend. Locked in
each other's embraces, and wrestling for the fall,
it seemed as if the flashing steel must presently
be buried in the side of one of them. Eolling
on the floor, now Froth is uppermost ; but Terrier
extricates himself and the baronet is beneath

176 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

him. The agent knows full well the danger of
letting go Sir Percy's arm : throughout the duel, .
therefore, he clings to his foe's wrist with strength
proportioned to his fear. The knife, in fact, is
the focus of their energies ; until that is free, not
much harm can come to either; the moment
that is released, who can tell how fearM the
injury may be ?

Evans and Northern both stood ready to act ;
but the horrible weapon, which flashed everywhere
at once, still kept them at a distance. The
admiral, who was the only other person present,
had seized the poker (heaven knows with what
intent), and danced around the combatants, shout-
ing first to one then to the other, as though he
were conducting an engagement between two
frigates in a gale of wind. At last Froth succeeds
in bending back one of the fingers which grasp

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 177

Ills wrist; the others are soon detached; he
snatches away the blade^ and a yell of pain from
Terrier proclaims that he is wounded. Northern
instantly clutched the baronet's uplifted arm;
and Evans, throwing himself upon Froth's
shoulders^ forced his head aside, and liberated
the bleeding gladiator.

It appears that when the dagger was drawn
away. Terrier had made an effort to recover his
grasp. In so doing he had caught the blade, and
had received a gash in the hand which nearly
severed the index and middle fingers. The he-
morrhage was profuse. The hand itself was covered
with blood, which trickled on to the carpet. The
wounded man felt himself to be severely hurt.
Possibly an impleasant vision of lock-jaw flitted
through his mind. He looked at Froth, who
might well be ashamed at the mischief he had

VOL. II. 12

178 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHEES.

done, and said with every trace of anger removed
from his voice and manner, " It was not right,
sir, to attack me like an assassin/'

" I'm sorry you're hurt," returned the baronet,
curtly, " but it was your own faidt, you struck the
first blow/'

" Come, come,'' said Evans, " we have had quar-
relling enough for to-night. An insidt has been
giyen and an injury returned, whatever belongs
to that score is wiped out. But it is rather a
strong measure to attack an unarmed man with
a dagger ; and I think. Sir Percy, looking at^the
consequences, you can well afford to beg Mr.
Terrier's pardon."

" Oh well," says Froth, with a shrug of the
shoulders, "if you think so, I'm agreeable.
Mr. Terrier, I beg your pardon, and hope you'll
be none the worse for the cut."

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHEBS. 179

" As to the cut/* says Terrier, who now was all
forgiyeness and generosity, ^' I dare say it's no-
thing very serious, and since you beg my pardon.
Sir Percy, I am quite ready to beg yours. I know
I am apt to be hasty, but I hope you will bear no
malice. I'm very sorry that I struck you. I can't
oflfer you my right hand, but if you'll take my left,
there it is, and all I can say is may we never be
worse friends."

"Spoken like a man by !" roars the ad-
miral, striking what he called his ' salamander "
on the floor. " Come, Froth, my hearty, bear
up, and give him your fin."

As soon as the colonel had shaken hands,
which he did with the best grace he could.
Admiral Lanyard mixed a stiff glass of grog,
and insisted on Terrier swallowing it all boil-
ing as it was. The poor fellow being faint from

180 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

loss of blood, no better treatment could have
been devised.

While the latter part of this battle was being
fought, Lady de Crecy was in the next room, listen-
ing with breathless eagerness to the scuffling of
the combatants and the vociferations of the excited
admiral. She had. not reached the library until
the conflict was nearly over, and while she was
making up her mind to go in and put a stop to it,
the noise, which was very indistinct through the
double doors, terminated with Terrier's yell, and
gradually died away altogether. This silence, com-
bined with her ignorance, heightened her anxiety
to the most painful pitch. She waited and waited,
straining her senses to catch some sound that
would inform her of what was going on. At last,
unable to control her curiosity any longer, she
turned the handle of the inner door, when the door

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 181

of the drawing-room was also opened, and Lord
Northern stood before her. " You here !^' said
he, starting back as if he beheld an apparition.

" Yes/* she answered, hastily. " Tell me what
has happened. I heard — good God! you are
bleeding, Northern/' and in her terror she
seized his hand.

" No/' said he, much gratified by this spontane-
ous burst of feeling, ^Hhis blood is not mine, it is
Terrier's. He has been hurt. A cut in the hand,
nothing serious, I hope. They've sent for a doctor.
Froth and he have had a row."

" I know," said she, " but tell me all about it.
What happened when the women left the room ?
How was he wounded ? Did Froth stab him ?
How did you get blooded?" and Lady de Crecy
sank through faintness on a sofa. The marquis
then flung himself beside her, and told her, perhaps

182 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

not as briefly as lie might, how the quarrel had
commenced; how Froth was always aggravating
Terrier; how he wished Terrier had given Froth a
thrashing; how dangerous the struggle was ; what
difficulty he and Evans had in separating them ;
and doubtless he woidd have told her a good deal
more, had not Lady de Crecy stopped him by
rising to go away.

" I am glad,*' she said, with slight embarrass-
ment, " that you are none the worse. I thought,
when first I saw you, those dreadful stains looked
ominouB.'*

" If," said he, retaining her hand in his ;■ " if
my blood, dear Daisy, could purchase such another
expression of your interest I would gladly shed
it aU.'*

She tried to withdraw her hand ; but he held
it fast, and bowed his head to kiss it. At this

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHEBS. 183

very crisis, ere his lips had touched that but half-
resisting hand, a side door was slowly and noise-
lessly pushed open. Lady de Crecy saw it. Her
start and exclamation arrested Lord Northern's
movement. He had just time to recover himself,
when Lord de Crecy glided in ; and stood there
like a spectre, ghastly, motionless, and silent.

It is not difficult to imagine what the unhappy
husband expected to discover. He had watched
his wife's movements from the moment she left
the drawing-room. His mind was not occupied
with the quarrels of the whist-table. It was
rankling with his own suspicions. If there was
any thought of spUling blood, it was neither
Froth's nor Terrier's. But let us go back and
follow him.

Scarcely were the ladies lodged safely in their
chambers, when the auxious Daisy stole cautiously

184 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

from hers. And now, as slie issues from her
room, she looks carefully down the passage. She,
of course, has no idea that she is being watched.
She sees no one ; for her husband is concealed ;
and'he draws back exactly as she emerges. At
first she hesitates which direction she shaU take.
But afraid of meeting some one upon the principal
stairs, she decides upon the other. On her way
to it, she has to pass by Northern's roouL She
wonders whether he is gone to bed. That can-
not be, for his door stands wide open. A sudden
curiosity takes possession of her : curiosity to
peep into the room which she had bestowed such
pains in decorating. How does it look now that
he inhabits it ?

The door opened inwards, so that Lord De Crecy,
who is some way down the passage, cannot see
that it is open at all ; and therefore cannot know

THE MIDLA19DS AND OTHEBS. 185

that the room itself is empty. Now, it is only a
peep that Daisy takes. She does not enter ; but
stands for a second or two looking in. Fatal
cariosity ! The instant his wife is out of sight,
and, Bs he imagines, in Northern's arms, he darts
from his conceahnent, rushes to his own room,
and shaking from head to foot, with haste, shaking
with emotions more violent than haste, almost
incapacitated by agitation, he unlocks a bureau as
fast as his cold clammy quivering hands allow
him, tears open a drawer, and seizes upon a
brace of small pistols. One of these he slips
into each coat pocket. He then rushes to the
scene of his supposed dishonour and shame.

The birds are flown, the door is still wide open.
No candles are burning ; but the flre blazes fit-
fully. He scans the fiimiture with a cunning
eye — the bed, the sofa. But everything is orderly.

186 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

Nothing moves. No sound is audible. Whither
are they gone ? He pauses in an agony of sus-
pense. Then off to Daisy's bedchamber. They
are not there. To her boudoir. No, nor there.
He listens on the staircase ; and hears nothing
but the measured ticking of the old haU clock.
Now voices reach him : and now a cry of pain.
Bah ! 'Tis only Froth and Terrier fighting.
And in despair he dashes back to search some
rooms unoccupied.

At last it strikes him there is a chance of find-
ing them in the Ubrary. . . . His ear is at

the key-hole. Yes, that is Daisy's voice. Hark!

What is it she says ? " When first you hm — ^hm."

And now 'tis Northern's. " If my blood, dear

Daisy " Here he entered ; and what was then

revealed ? Lady de Crecy stood a full yard or

more apart from Northern. And the marquis

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 187

stood with his hands in his pockets^ looking as
composed as fierce defiance would allow him.
Lord De Crecy took in their relative attitudes at
a glance. Beyond the lateness of the hour, and
the fact that they had previously parted for the
night, there was nothing to lay hold of. Yet the
husband had, with his own eyes, seen his wife enter
at midnight into the chamber of her lover. Of
this Lady de Crecy knew nothiug. So her whole
demeanour expressed, and was intended to express,
anger and indignation at this last fresh instance
of unwarranted suspicion. Lord De Crecy re-
mained stationary. Daisy turned to Northern,
gave him her hand, thanked him for his exertions
in the quarrel, begged him to order whatever was
required for the wounded man, then bade him
good-night, and closed the door behind her. Thp
next moment Northern heard a scream.

188 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

Dasliing into the passage he found Lady de
Crecy, her face covered by her hands, with her
back against the wall as close as she could get.
Lord de Crecy was holding a pistol to her head.
Like lightning, a blow from the young man's hand
sent the pistol spinning along the floor, and a
simultaneous push sent the weapon's owner after
it. Daisy's life no longer threatened, her nerve
was soon regained. She put aside the support
which Northern offered ; and hastened from the
spot without further word or look. Lord de
Crecy and Lord Northern were now left face
to face.

" You perhaps imagine," began the elder^ "that
you have saved Lady de Crecy's life ? "

" Well, I was about as near to that as I was to
taking yours, I suppose. If I had failed in one
I should have fallen back upon the other."

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 189

" A case of Tell and Gesler. Yet I was but
proving to her that I had spared your life and
hers too."

"I am infinitely obliged to you. And, con-
sidering your gentle mode of illustration, have no
doubt that Lady de Crecy is the same.''

"See here," the speaker drew the second
pistol from his pocket, "I had one for each of
you ; yet refrained from using either."

"It was considerate of you; especially in
regard to your own neck. But your intention to
have a shot at me shall certainly not be balked."

.With this Lord Northern walked away ; and
as he passed Lord de Crecy he clenched his fist,
hoping yet for an excuse to annihilate his foe.

"Very good," said Lord de Crecy, "we will
settle^hat to-morrow." He then picked up the
fallen weapon, and marched sulkily to his den.

190 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

CHAPTER XI.

When Daisy reached her room she locked her-
self in, threw herself on her bed, and endea-
voured to collect her bewildered thoughts. Any
attempt to portray the rapid succession of ideas
that filled and confused her mind would be a
failure. It is said by persons who have survived
the perils of death, that in the imminent moment
of destruction all the marked events of life are
crowded into that awful crisis. Something of a
similar character was the mental phasis past
through by Lady de Crecy. Her life haa been
threatened, and, had it been taken, her last mo-

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHEKS. 191

ments could not have been more terrible than
those which she had undergone. And now^ as
she lay upon her bed, she seemed to live through
that catastrophe again. And the violent stimulus
of fear and horror excited consciousness to such
a pitch, that her whole life appeared yiyidly
present to her at once. Through all her efforts
to compose herself her childhood and her girl-
hood, which seemed incalculably remote, kept
rising up like phantoms, and mingling with her
actual condition. It was a state of nightmare, in
which she strove vainly to convert the present
into the past — to make the past real, and the
present but a dream. She kept on putting to
herself such questions as these. Was the past
so utterly irrevocable ? Was she then absolutely
married to Lord de Crecy ? Had she taken a step
from which there was no retreating P Was

192 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

Northern ever so profligate, so indifferent to her,
as they accused him of being ? Should she not
relent P Should she not tell Lord de Crecy that
she never could many him ? Confess that she
had loved Northern from her childhood ? would
it not be better to tell him all, before it was too
late? .

Then half doubting whether she is dreaming
or waking she timidly feels for her wedding ring.
Finding the dreadful reality, she starts up as if
a new idea had struck her; [and asks aloud,
why was it even now too late P That man, who
put the pistol to her head^ was not her husband.
No, not in any sense her husband. Why should
she not procure a divorce P Once free, she might
honorably be Northern's wife — ^the wife of the
man she loved. What bliss — what rapture was
in the thought. Divorce — and what did that

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 193

entail ? Hideous question ! Law, public courts,
cross-examinings, insulting counsel, tlie ribald
crowd, the whispers and pointed fingers of
society ! "No, no, never, never ! Rather would «he
endure her present misery for ever, than face the
torture of such annihilating shame. * ♦ ♦ Yet
how could she bear this life any longer ? She had
striven, and had done her best ; but all to no
purpose. She waa innocent, yet suffered as much,
nay, more than if she were guilty. And would it
after all be guilt P What if Northern were in the
right P What if flight with him were justifiable —
pardonable in the eye of heaven P Ah ! yes it
must be so. Could Justice exact more from Virtue
than she had already performed P Could mercy
punish where love was the only crime p ♦ * * She
would fly with Northern away from their incessant
torturing trials — far, far away from every soul

VOL. II. 13

194 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

who knew her, to be alone with him where each
would be sufficient to the other. They would be
married ; and their children — ^their children would
some day learn that their mother was — ^hush!
dreadful thought ! But she was innocent. Before
God she was innocent !* Heaven be blessed, she
was innocent, and innocent she would remain.

Lady de Crecy paced the room to calm her
agitation, and grasp her last resolve more firmly.
By degrees her wonted strength and courage
returned, and by degrees she began to think of
others. What would be the sequel of this affair
between Lord de Crecy and Lord Northern? With
men such quarrels could only be settled by a duel.
Lord de Crecy, as she remembered to have heard,
had fought before, many years ago. How had
that duel ended? Had he shot his adversary? She
did not know. This time he might himself be killed,

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 195

and then — ^no, she could never marry the man
who had taken her husband's life. But perhaps
Northern might fall ; and die for her sake. The
quarrel was on her account. If either of them
were killed she would be the murderess, she alone
would be to blame. This must not, could not, be.
It was her instant duty to prevent it : she must
see Lord de Grecy forthwith ; she must explain to
him exactly what had happened. Her own feel-
ings were nothing in the scale against the risk of
human life. * ♦ * And Northern must leave the
house to-morrow — ^not a single day might he re-
main. She would command him, implore him, on
her knees she would implore him, to go : she would
convince him that his presence brought nothing
but misery, convince him that his passion was
hopeless ; that no persuasion, no sufiering should
ever induce her to give way. If all else failed, she

196 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

would confess her own love (entrancing thought !)
and appeal to him by that. Fop her sake he
would leam to be more patient. If he did but
know how she suflfered he could bear his own
distress more patiently.

When, after this harassing conflict, she had
quite decided upon the course to be taken, Lady
de Crecy set herself to reflect on the best way of
putting her plans into execution. She now re-
membered that the morrow had been fixed on
for a grand battue in the park. Several of the
neighbours had been invited. The duke was
very keen about his day's sport. The end of the
season was approaching: everything had been
arranged and settled. It was impossible to post-
pone the day. Yet nothing could be more inoppor-
tune at such a moment as the present. In the
first place, Lord de Crecy neither knew nor cared

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 197

anythmg about sport. He never crossed a horse
except to canter in the park; and never fired
a gun^ because it gave him a headache. When-
ever Northern was stajdng in the house (and he
used always to be at Tinselby for the shooting) he
had invariably taken the management of it
entirely into his own hands. Now, the first con-
sideration with Lord de Crecy was to keep up
appearances — to make displays suitable to his own
notions of his own importance. If he gave an
entertainment in London, or in the country, it
must be more brilliant than other people's enter-
tainments. Any failure, any break-down or mis-
carriage, would be sure to bring on a fit of the gout.
WTiat then was to become of this battue if Nor-
thern were not to manage it P How imder the cir-
cumstances could he possibly remain to do so P
And yet the party could not be put off. The

198 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

people had been asked for weeks before. Supposing
that Northern did stay in the house for one day
more, what chance was there of his helping Lord
de Crecy ? Yet was not Lord de Crecy helpless
(in this matter) without him P She knew nothing
of these things herself, but ishe knew what a fuss
Lord de Crecy was always in about his battues,
and what a point he made of having some one
like Northern to superintend them. What was
to be done ? She must devise something. What
was she to do ? She had no heart for anything.
Yet everything would devolve on her. How
should she get through it all ? How should she
attend to the people who were coming P She
would have to drive some of the ladies to the
shooters, and lunch with them. If Lord de
Crecy remained at home (which he would probably
do to avoid Northern) he would be thinking the

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHEBS. 199

whole time that she was there on purpose to
give Northern opportunities. On every side she
was beset with troubles. But the greatest of all
was the duel. That must be averted, whatever
else might happen.

Lady de Crecy's task was even more burden-
some than she deemed it. Fsually, as we know
after these domestic scenes Lord de Grecy's
violence was'foUowed by a reaction, which brought
him humble and cringing to the feet of his in-
jured wife. He had at last, so he imagined, just
and terrible cause for wrath . The guilty Daisy had
nought her paramour in his own chamber. Never
therefore had Lord de Crecy been so miserable,
so infuriated, so implacable, as now.

For some time Daisy waited in momentary ex-
pectation of the penitent's tap at her door. Then
she began to be impatient. The night was far

200 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

advanced. What could Lord De Orecy be doing ?
Surely he would come and beg for pardon as usual.
She waited, but he came not. There was no resource
left but to go to him. But then (she reasoned),
if she appeared as a supplicant, her humility might
aggravate his suspicion. It would have simpli-
fied the affair so much to have him on his knees
to start with. To condescend to raise hirn up
was one thing, to have the task of humiliating
him was another. However the importance of
the issue admitted of no swerving. But stop!
What if for once in his life his lordship should
prove refractory? What if for this once the
magic power of her charms should fail to con-
qfuer himP Lady de Crecy rings for Mistress
Tucker, and straightway begins to perform, or (if
you will) to imperform her toilet.

But no Angela's wicked part will we play. Ko

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 201

Porphyro by our consent shall peep through closet
key-hole upon our peerless Madeline. The amor-
ous imagination of youth must fain transport itself
whither it listeth. But not on this chaste plume^
plucked from the iron wing of Joseph Gillott,
shall any lawless fancy ride. What P would you
have us turn Jachimo, and help you to pry into
the sacred penetralia of this sweet Imogen?
What do I know of the golden cherubim upon
the fretted roof; the winking cupids on the
andirons^ the Gleopatras on the silk and silver
tapestry P The very atmosphere would make you
faint with sweetness. Moss roses are out of bloom
in January ; yet there's something here of every
flower's odour. But what flower so sweet as our
Daisy P I dare say now, a vulgar eye (ye gods
avert it !) would note you the endless instruments
which minister to the sacred rites of beauty's

202 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

queen. The soft luxurious couches^ the satin-
quilted bed, the golden ornaments of the dressing-
table, the caskets filled with sparkling gems, and
how

The tortoise and the elephant nnite,

Transformed to combs, the speckled and the white.

The bath too, with its array of snowy towels,
soft sponges, and Parisian soaps. And those
tiny slippers waiting on the fleecy rug to kiss the
naked little feet. But you, my stem misogamist,
and I, are looking up the chimney all this while ;
we would blush to play the spy, when

Of all its wreathed pearls her hair she frees ;
Unclasps her warmed jewels one by one ;
Loosens her fragrant boddice ;

and the law of gravitation asserts its customary
influence over the rich attire, in which our Daisy
lately looked so beautiful. When the priestess

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 203

Tucker is dismissed however, when our lovely
lady's oversight has been redeemed, and those
charms of which she doubted are rendered irre-
sistible as art, or rather nature (for she has put
off much more than she has put on) can make
them; when decked in the simple white pegnoir
trimmed with pink ribbons, her sumptuous tresses
flowing lovelily over her shoulders, she prepares to
conquer in the cause of Peace — then, I say, let us
again behold, and admire. Before she goes forth
on her righteous mission she kneels to Heaven
for grace; and fervently invokes the strength
she needs, and prays forgiveness for all those
wicked, wicked thoughts which we have just
now shared in.

Lord de Orecy sits ruminating before his fire.
He starts at the gentle tap which rouses him.
** Who's there ?^' he cries, half dreading per-

204 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

haps that a certain savage youth is come to wring
his poor old shrivelled neck.

"Daisy.''

" Come in.'*

He does not raise his head to look at her. Per-
haps he dreads her loveliness — the loveliness
lavished on another. For a minute or two neither
breaks the silence.

"Well, what is it you want? what are you
come here forP" he presently says, furtively
glancing in her direction.

" Can you ask me," said she, " after what has
passed to-night P I have received many outrages
at your hands. Lord de Crecy, and how often you
have aspersed my honesty I know not. But to-
night you have threatened to take my life.'*

" It might have been better for both of us had
I carried out the threat."

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 205

" If the remainder of my Kfe were to be what
that life has some time been^ it would indeed be
better that I were dead."

" Dead ! why did you ever Kve P Why did I
ever set eyes on you P What have I done that
my existence should be cursed by a creature so
beautiful to look on, so false — so foul as you ? "

" Lord de Crecy, I came here to receive the
amends which are my due, for the insult and
violence which I may no longer bear with. Some-
times my bitter sense of wrong has goaded me to
reject the atonements which in your contrition
you have offered me. To-night your conduct has
passed the measure of all former injuries. I de-
mand the reparation which I hitherto disdained."

She stood before him like an empress.
" What ! " shrieked his lordship, " you demand
reparation ! you, you ! ha, ha, ha ! This is the

206 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

\ .

consummation of a strumpet's impudence. Why,
were I but to swear in a court of law to what I
this night witnessed, the most callous judge would
blush to hear your infamy. His sentence would
proclaim you to the world — an outcast ! "

" You lie ! 'Tis false, I swear by Heaven, it is
a shameM and most calumnious lie."

" Woman, I sat^ you. You thought you were
unnoticed. You cast your guilty looks around
you, but you could not see that I was watching.
Concealed in the recess, I detected all your move-
ments. Stealthily you crept along the passage,
stealthily I crept after you. I guessed your pur-
pose ; by the way you went I knew you could
have no other. When you reached his door you
paused. Again you looked behind you. Your
greedy haste to meet your lover prevented you
from seeing me. I saw you enter! Will you

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 207

deny itP Will you swear these eyes, not you, de-
ceiyedmeP Ha! you turn pale: you faint! Daisy!''

'' Thank you, I am well. It is nothing — ^the
shock — the surprise — ^it is over now. So, so, you
watched me. Lord de Grecy P And you saw me
enter Lord Northern's room P ''

« Would that I had been struck blind first P "

" Yes, you did see me."

" She confesses it ! "

" And for this you would have murdered me !
You must have suffered very much, to be driven
by so slight an accident, to contemplate so
grave a crime. Listen to me. Lord de Crecy, I
will try to comfort you,"

She took his hand. " You have wronged me
very deeply, but the penalty you pay almost
balances that wrong. No assurances of mine can
quell the scorching fever of your jealousy;

208 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

time and your own endeavours only can work
this cure; but I may be a patient nurse, and
may sometimes, as now, I hope, assuage this frenzy
with the balm of gentle words. Listen to me

«

calmly. Lord de Crecy, I will explain to you what
took place last night. Before I left the drawing-
room I perceived that a quarrel was impending
between Mr. Terrier and Sir Percy. I knew the
hasty temper of one of them, and dreaded the
spiteful malice of the other. Not being over
weU myself, a nervous apprehension seized me.
A presentiment of bloodshed took so strong a
hold of me that I was on the point of asking you
to interfere. After the ladies had retired, so in-
tolerable was my suspense that I determined to
seek the library ; and if I heard the disturbance
going on, to return to the men and stop it. To
be minute in accounting for my movements, I chose

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 209

the back staircase in order to avoid any gentle-
men who might be coming up the main one. In
passing Lord Northern's door I noticed that it
stood open — ^wide open. I was glad it was so :
for I learnt from this that he was not yet up ; and
hoped his presence would combine with that of
others' to terminate the brawl. An idle curiosity
(I can call it nothing else) led me to glance into
the room. As mistress of the house, and with my
habits of personally arranging all the rooms, I
am persuaded I should have felt the same inclin-
ation, and acted precisely in the same way, had I
passed any open door at any other time. Your
hideous suspicions are even now unaccountable to
me. If you were watching, you must have seen
I did not linger an instant there. I looked into
the room it is true, and in order to do so passed
I suppose out of your range of sight. But not
voti. 11, 14

210 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

a second did I loiter there. I turned at once^ and
descended hastily to the library. The men were
fighting when I got there. I heard other voices
besides the two. I waited : the struggle did not
last long. Presently, when aU was over, Lord
Northern entered, and found me listening. He
told me of the quarrel : how Froth had used a
knife : how Terrier had been wounded. What
time he took in recounting the details you best
can judge, for you were in the passage. When
you found us, I was wishing him good-night. Do
you believe me, Lord de Crecy ? "

" Daisy ! forgive me this once, forgive me.
I am a poor insane old fool. Mad, mad with
love of you — ^my beautiful, my angel wife !^' And
the wretched man fell on his knees, and sobbed
till the tears streamed through the burning hands
in which his face was buried.

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 211

"Yes!*' said his angel-wife, **I do forgive
you tliis once ; for this once, perhaps, you had
some pretext, however slender, for those vile and
slanderous suspicions which are making our lives
a hell to us. But alas ! what assurance can
you give me that this miserable jealousy will not
plunge us both into the same abyss of suffering
to-morrow ? When am I to be trusted P When
am I to be spared these ruthless contumelies?
When am I to be treated, if not with the respect
due to your wife, at least with the common
courtesy due to my gentle birth and to my sex P ''

" Spare me, Daisy, spare me ! never again, my
darling, I solemnly swear, shall you have cause to
reproach me with this infernal jealousy. If you
did but know how 1 worship you; how the misery
I inflict on you, and on myself (and God knows
how much I suffer !) all comes of my inordinate

212 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

devotion. If you only knew how I ,adore you.
Ah, don't withdraw this Kttle hand. Do, do let
me kiss it. This once forgive me, my angel;

never I swear " and da capo.

" It is not by such oaths that my peace can be
ensured. Too often have I heard their repetition.
I will not threaten you. Lord de Crecy, with the
just penalty of your shameful treatment, for I
pray heaven that no temptation may ever lead me
to commit a crime, for which my own conscience
would punish me more, a thousand times more,
than the public infamy with which you just now
threatened me. But this I will say, the man who
treats his wife as you treat me, provokes, by the
strongest conceivallle incentives, the very crime he
is afraid of. What motive can be so powerful
with a woman to preserve her husband's honour
as her affection and respect for him ? Weak, and

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 213

craving for a loving heart to lean upon, she
is driven by such conduct as yours to seek for
sympathy elsewhere. I need not tell you that
while a woman's beauty lasts, her difficulty is, not
to find, but to avoid a lover. For your own sake
and for mine do not force temptation upon me.
And now for to-morrow: you have invited the
neighbours to shoot with you ? "

" Yes, what is to be done ? I am so ill — ^this
affair has so upset me. I know I shall have an
attack of the gout. What am I to do ? I can't
put them off. Who is to manage the whole
thing ? This unfortunate business ! People com-
ing to meet the duke. Nothing could be so un-
lucky. If North — no I cannot speak to him^ I
can't indeed. Dear, dear, what is to be done P "
and the unhappy creature whined, and wrung his
hands like a child.

214 THE Mn)LANDS AND OTHERS.

"I have considered everything," said Daisy;
"if you will do as I advise, I promise that all shall
yet go well."

" My precious ! I wiU do anything in the world
you bid me."

" Here then," said Daisy, busying herself at his
writing-table, " sit down at once, and write a note
to Lord Northern, and say "

"What! to him? Good God! And after what has
happened ? It is impossible, indeed, indeed it is."

" Very well then, you must do as you think
proper ; I cannot help you. But whether you write
to him or not, I must insist on an explanation to-
morrow. You have accused me in the presence of
a third person ; and be that person who it may, to
him you must acknowledge that you were ,to
blame." And she drew her robe about her as if to
depart.

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 215

"Stay, stay, do not leave me, my darling. I
will — ^I will write to him : what am I to say ? "
" * My dear Northern —

j>>

"But Daisy, my love, think of what has
passed.*'

" *My dear Northern,' " repeats the lady reso-
lutely ; " ' I cannot rest until I have conveyed to
you my unspeakable regret for the misunderstand-
ing which the unfortunate accidents' — ^two c's —
'of to-night have given rise to. It is not necessary
that I should repeat to you the explanation which
Lady de Crecy has afforded me concerning her
presence in the library,' — stop, scratch out * her,'
' your presence,' we'll say."

"EhP Why so, my dear P "

"Why? Because — well, because there is no
necessity to proclaim that Lady de Crecy is called
upon to explain her conduct to any one.''

516 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

" True, true, to be sure, of course not."
" Suffice it to say, that I now thoroughly com-
prehend my own unpardonable—

9 )>

" But, my love," whined the writer, " you did
admit that "

" Yes, yes, never mind that now : * unpardonable
blunder,' — ^unpardonable underlined, please — *and
can only say that I must have been out of my
senses when I suffered myself to be led astray by
appearances, which never* — ^underline * never' —
* could have justified such hasty and absurd
conclusions ' "

" Would you say ' absurd,' my love P" asks the
penman, deferentially.

" Were they not absurd P " returns the lady.
" And now about the shooting : write "

"Ah yes," says his lordship, "we've said
enough about the other."

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 217

"'Of course you will not aUow this foolish
afihir to alter in any way the pleasant rela-
tions '"

" Ahem I pkasant ? Better omit pleasant^ I
think/'

"*The friendly relations/ then, *that have
hitherto subsisted between us. You must not
let it curtail your visit, nor suffer it to interfere
with any plans which it may suit your own con-
venience to make.' I must tell you," said Daisy,
interrupting her dictation, " that I myself shall
request Lord Northern to leave the house the
day after the shooting.''

" You, my love ? you will request him P "

"Yes, I. Had you consulted my wishes, you
would have taken that step a week ago. But I
am resolved that his presence here shall no longer
be the occasion of perpetual annoyance to me."

218 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

" Daisy, Daisy ! I thought we had made peace/'
"This is the^only way to keep it/' says she.
" * Convenience/ full stop. * In proof of good feel-
ing between us, I hope you will undertake, as usual,
the management of the battue to-morrow. I fear
my health will prevent my carrying a gun. I
must therefore depend entirely on your kindness
for providing our common friends with sport.
That no one knows how to direct this so well as
yourself, is but one of many reasons (which I am
sure you will appreciate) ioi my making the
request, and for your granting the favour. Believe
me, yours sincerely, De C.

Lady de Crecy folded the letter which her hus-
band had written, sealed it herself, and took it
away with her. She was aware that it eontained
many expressions which on second thoughts his
lordship might discover objections to. And she

>w

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 219

was sufficiently Intimate witk her husband to
know that he was quite capable of substituting
some document of his own^ and yet declare he had
forwarded the one that she had dictated. The
truth is, the whole time he had been writing he
was calculating on a private revisal of the letter,
and fully intended to transcribe such portions of
it only as met with his deliberate approval. He
observed his wife's precautions with dismay, and
offered to save her trouble by sending the note
with his valet in the morning. But her ladyship
replied that the simplest plan would be for her to
give it to the marquis at breakfast-time. This
settled the matter. But so cordially did Lord De
Crecy hate his young guest that> if left to himself,
no sense of prudence,, neither the difficulty about
the shootings nor the risk of fighting a duel, would
have induced him to write in so conciliatory a

220 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

tone. Northern had struck him, — ^at all events
had knocked a pistol out of his hand, and in doing
so had pushed him down. This provocation was
doubly galling. The blow was not yet returned.
But worse than the blow was the fact that the
young gentleman had constituted himself Daisy's
protector. The lover had defended the wife
against the husband. He — Lord De Crecy — ^had
been humiliated by acknowledged jealousy of the
man he hated most in the world. While to make
matters worse, this vory man had chastised him ;
instead of receiving punishment for crimes, which,
though undetected, had doubtless been committed.
Of all the many bitter feelings that rankled
at his heart, the letter he had just penned gave
no vent to a single one. There was no comfort
to be got out of the thought that the line he had
taken might pass for magnanimity. He assumed

THB MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 221

that his true character was accurately reflected in
the mirror of Northern's judgment. Far the like-
liest opinionfor the young marquis to form would be
that the writer of such a letter was both hypocrite
and poltroon. There was but one vague consola-
tion to mitigate the bitterness of these reflections.
Daisy had promised to get Lord Northern out
of the house immediately the shooting was over.
For a tinie at all events there would be some
respite. And the only happiness Lord De Crecy
had to look forward to, was the possibility of pro-
tracting the young lover's absence, by such devices
as chance and his own cunning might henceforth
provide.

With all his troubles, however. Lord de Crecy
was tossing about in feverish slumber long before
his wife even sought repose. She too had a letter
to indite. For it would be easier to write '' Lord

222 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHEBS.

Northern, you must leave this house to-morrow/'
than to say it. Not that Lady de Crecy would
have shrunk from speaking this boldly out, or
any other sentence indeed, which her duty told
her must be spoken. When this same notion of
Duty was in the ascendant, the fair martyr would
compress her sweet lips, turn her lovely eyes to
heaven, commend herself to the gods, and leap
into the deepest of Curtian gulphs, with the most
headlong of Virtue's champions. Still, by writ-
ing she escaped the perils of vocal argument.
Northern might beg to be allowed to stay on.
And then, so much of her strength, so many of
her resolutions, oozed away when she was face
to face with him. In point of fact, she was
stronger than she supposed. Yet she felt miser-
ably weak when he was at her side. Nor
could she overcome the belief that he must dis-

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 223

cem how terribly afraid she was of yielding.
She meditated long ere she decided on the sort
of letter she should write to him. She had so
much to say^ her heart was so full^ she could
pour out such volumes of kind advice, of re-
monstrance, of entreaties, of carefully concealed
aflTection, yet irrevocably fixed resolves : but no,
that must not be. It was impossible to speak of
herself without doing more harm than good.
The two ideas she would have given worlds
to find utterance for, were these — ^her love (her
affection, as she called it to herself) ; and the
impassable gulf which separated them for ever.
On the first she was doomed to silence. And as
to the other, it was sickening to think of. It
was no satisfaction to write of that, imless she
could give vent to all. In the end she elected
to express herself as follows : —

224 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

" I have seen the letter Lord de Crecyhas addressed
to yon. He hopes that what happened last night may
be unnoticed and forgotten. Let me add my earnest
entreaties to the same effect. There is however but
one way to save me the repetition of snch a scene.
K you leave I shall at least be unmolested. But if
you remain it must be at the cost of my peace : and,
as you now know, possibly at the risk of personal

safety.

" Daisy de Creoy.*'

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 225

CHAPTER XII.

At breakfast next morning Lord de Crecy did not
come down. Daisy, who was very late, announced
as a message from her husband that he was suffer-
ing from a slight attack of gout ; and though he
could not join the shooters, that he hoped his ab-
sence would in nowise mar their sport ; for which
the necessary arrangements had been made.
The duke politely expressed his regrets; but
added quietly, with a nod at his son, " I venture
to say your ladyship will find no difficulty in
persuading some one to fill his place.''

" Did you hear the old boy ? *' whispers little

VOL. II. 15

226 THE MIDLANDS AiND OTHBBS.

St. Kitts to Sir Percy, with a knowing wink of the
eye. " Fill his place, eh Percy ! "

The two were helping themselves to broiled
pheasant at the sideboard.

"If," returned the baronet laconically, *'we
miss nothing but De Crecy to-day, we shall
make a right good bag."

" Oh I hope so," was Daisy's reply to the duke.
" Lord Northern is used to the part of field-
marshal, and Lord de Crecy wishes him to take it
to-day. Here I presume is his commission, imder
the sign manual." She held up a letter, which
Northern left his place to receive from her hand.
With half a glance the young marquis perceived
the writing on the cover to be her own.

" Thank you," said he, composedly, putting the
letter into his pocket. " I will attend punctually
to my instructions."

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 227

How could Daisy dare to deliver sucli papers
as we know these to be, in the presence of a score
of people^ many of whom she must have believed to
be conversant with Northern's secret, if not with
her own ? How could she, with so many eyes upon
her, place a letter in the hand of one to whom she
imagined it would be as a death-warrant P How
could she venture upon Northern's instantly recog-
nizing her writing, and upon his putting the letter
by till he was alone P He might have torn it open
at once, and have exposed them both by want of
self-command. How could she act thus in the
face of such risk, and behave the while with per-
fect self-possession, grace, and cheerfulness? There
is but one answer to these questions — she was a
woman. There are men who ceui show a placid
front under the most galling fire. There are men
who can unctuously light their pipes with the

228 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

scraps of paper which records the most sacred
pledges of love and honour ; men who can cabnly
whittle their nails with the blade they have just
drawn through a windpipe — and think moreover
only of the whittling. But where concealment is
the business, we men have not a chance. No
matter what Jemima was doing when your hand
was on the door : and perhaps butter will not
melt in James' mouth. But when you enter,
James' face is as scarlet as a chili : while Jemima
is embroidering as innocently as Penelope. As
Penelope, I say; for who knows how Penelope was
occupied in the absence of UllysesP Did Mrs.
U. spend the whole of her time in stitching and
unstitching, think you ? No, madam ; in trifles
of this kind — of this kind, mark me — ^you women
beat us all to fits. Let the matter be suflSciently
serious — ^what shall we say ? The crossing of a

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 229

thoroughfare, for instance. Zounds ! One would
think a troop of cavalry — the horses, Le. — were at
your heels« If ow a dash on this side, now a dash
on t'other, till, bewildered and terror-stricken, you
rush, with tight-shut eyes, plump into one's very
arms« Timidity and daring, coyness and effirontery ,
tenderness and cruelty, simplicity and artfulness,
weakness and strength — how nicely are these
blended in the one strange compound--«woman!

But though Daisy de Crecy could practice
her harmless dissimulations with q skill which
every lady in the breakfast-room might have
matched ; it must not be inferred from the per-
fection of the performance that the accomplished
actress sustained the r61e so easily. That astute
observer, Evans, noticed the paleness of Lady de
Crecy's complexion, and the azure shades which
encircled her expressive eyes. As he touched her

230 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

hand in wishing her good-moming he was struck
with its parched heat. He remarked too the con-
strained tone of her gaiety ; and as no one was
more familiar than himself with her natural and
unembarrassed manner, no one coidd more readily
detect its factitious substitute. In a word, he
settled that something serious had transpired to
cause the obvious change. Whether it was be-
tween the lady and Northern, or had to do
with Froth and Terrier, he could not yet decide.

Painful indeed was the tumultuous commotion
which raged within the fair bosom of poor Daisy.
She gave herself no credit for her own powers of
deception. She felt as if everyone in the room
must read her wan and harassed looks. It had
been nearly morning before she lay down, and
then it was not to sleep, but to toss and turn and
fret. And when exhaustion at length closed her

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 231

eyesy Hdeous apparitions of death haunted her,
and wild dreams in which Northern was present.
She dreamed she was on board a vessel crowded
with passengers^ among whom she recognized
Froth and Terrier, and Lord de Crecy dressed in
the captain^s uniform. The waste of waters was
interminable. Universal stillness reigned on
board. It was night, and something — something
vaguely terrible — ^was for ever following in the
ship's black wake. Presently the vessel began to
sink. Then she said to herself, I have been asleep;
I have had fearful dreams, but I am awake now.
This is death—- death at last ! Mercy! what a
hurricane, how it lightens ! Qod save us ! what
awfiil thunder ! Then she rushed on deck ; and
sought amongst the crowd for Northern. Northern
alone can save her. She sees Evans at the helm,
and screams to him for Northern. But mountains

232 THE BflDLANDS AND OTHERS.

of sea wash over them. The ship sinks and sinks
deeper and deeper, till gradually she loses con-
sciousness.

A choir of mermaids is chanting to the sweet
chords of inyisible harps. The mermaids float
gracefully around her, waying garlands of bright
seaweed. As &r as she can see down avenues of
soft pink coral, countless nymphs are singing and
waving garlands of seaweed. By-and-by a car
approaches, and the music grows more distinct.
On the car, which is of burnished gold, studded
with sapphires and emeralds and all manner of
precious stones, sits the figure of a beautiful
youth : on his head is a crown of diamonds, in his
hand is a flaming trident, his tunic is purple, all
ablaze with diamonds. The car is drawn by
strange amorphous fishes, which change their
gorgeous hues with every movement ; and impart

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 233

to the watery depths the luminoiLS colours which
flash from their xnetaUic scales. As they swim
towards her she is oyerwhelmed with the dazzling
light (electric, no doubt) from the resplendent car.
Gradually her yery being is absorbed in light:
she is conscious only of rushing chords of music.
And as she feels that her own identity mingles
with the divindy thrilling rays, she breathes
the name of Loye, and passes into darkness.

And now she sits beneath the low yeranda of a
palm-leaf hut. Before her bends a bay of silyery
sand. The turquoise sea ripjdes and sparkles on
the thirsty beach. Behind her rise lofty moun-
tains. The deep gullies down their sides are rank
with vegetation. The hut is overgrown with
orchids, whose delicious fragrance embalms the
air. Humming-birds flit like butterflies from
bloom to bloom; and sparkle like jewels in the

234 THE MIDLANDS AND (XT&ERS.

sun, as they poise themselves above the nectared
chalices. The only sound beside the plashing
and the hissing of the sea is from noisy flocks of
parrots, screaming with delight over their per-
petual feast of fruits. Spread upon the beach is
a fishing-net. Northern^ in sailor^s garb, is mend-
ing it ; she herself is making (what do you sup-
pose?) baby-linen^ and a curly-headed boy is
playing with the shells about her feet. Suddenly
the air is darkened. The wind grows icy cold.
(The orchestra rumbres like fifty stomach-aches.)
The sea rises, the beauteous child is swept away
upon a tide of blood. Hie lurid clouds assume
the forms of demons. She triea ixy scream, but
cannot. Northern is struggling with a monster in-
side the hut, which is now the Ebrary at Tinselby.
A knife, dripping with gore, is brandished in her
face. She tries to move, but cannot. Her dress

THE MIDJJLNDS AND OTHERS^ 235

—an evening dress, the one slie got from Ma-
dame to wear the night that Northern came

— ^is steeped in blood, eyerjbody will know whose
blood. Eyerybody is pointing at her, mocking
her, gibbering at her. Lord da Crecy puts a
pistol to her head and fixes.

The explosion was the bang of the shutters,
which the housemaid was just now opening. The
climax was disagreeable^ to be sure,, but there were
scenes in the dream which she would gladly have
prolonged*. Indeed she tried to doze c»i for the
chance of beings once more transported to the bot-
torn of the sea^ or heayen knows where. But
her head was aching ; and the horrid day^s real
work was before her.. A day of acting,, a day
demanding more energy^ more exertion than she
felt it possible to put forth. Northern was to be
dismissed ; this was his last day : Northern, the

236 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

father of that beautiful curly-headed Midi
tush! no wonder she was feverish and agitated
when she came to breakfast.

There she sat now, smiling and chatting^ and
lovely as eyer^ though so pale. In the intervals
of conversation, as the visions of dreamland flitted
across her, she wondered, when she caught I^orth-
ern's eye fixed upon her, whether those airy or
rather watery phantasms were visible to him also.
When two persons between whom mesmmc cur-
rents have passed are in rapport, ike recipient, it
is said, is conscious of the g^ierator's sensaticms.
Was there not a rapport between her and North-
ern P Did not an accidental touch, even of their
garments, send its cold shock through every fibre
of their frames? jShe dared not meet his gaze
lest he should interpret &om her eyes the secret
of her heart. Would he divine lier thoughts

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 237

while these were filled with the apparitions of
last night P She blushed to think it possible.

But Lord Northern knew of nothing except
his own impatience to escape the breakfast-table.
Furtively every now and then he touched the
letter in his pocket to verify the existence of this
tangible link between himself and Daisy. What
could it be about? The packet was large and
weighty. He scarcely gave a thought to the
message from Lord de Crecy which it was supposed
to contain. His conjectures were wrapt up in
the behests which he knew it must contain from
her. His destiny and hers were involved in the
climax which the events of the preceding evening
had brought about. When would the moment
arrive for devouring those pregnant words ? As
a rule Northern cared as little as it is possible to
care what others thought of his behaviour. And

238 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

this natural independence was often heightened
into arrogant defiance by the accidents of his
social stand; but at the same time his pride
revolted at the notion of betraying his deepest
emotions to the impertinent curiofflty of the herd.
At the present moment especially he did not
choose that Froth, and St. Eitts, and Helen and
her mother, and the lot of them should see how
impatience was consuming him, and how incapable
he was of controlling it. Besides, there was
intense though not immixed pleasure in the con-
templation of pouring over that long letter of
Daisy's. It must of course contain his dismissal,
but might it not also contain passionate confessions
of her love ? (there was no saying after such pro-
vocation as she had received last night), perhaps
even a consent to fly with him ? There is a plea-
sure in deferring pleasure; but in this instance

THE lODLANDS AND OTHERS. 239

it was rather too protracted. The party had
more to talk about than usual. Bumours had
slipt out concerning the quarreL The admiral
had naturally given a brilliant description of
it to Mrs. Lanyard. This lady had descended to
the drawing-room earlier than usual that she
might be the first to narrate the particidars to her
ignorant and inquisitiye friends. Lady Selina
was overwhelmed with concern^ and calculated at
once the probable consequences of the affair upon
her own prospects of matrimony. The fate, look
you, of every bachelor was remotely connected
with her ladyship's speculations on this subject.
Mrs. Seabright declared she had but a poor
opinion of their country practitioner ; and on
reckoning up the expenses of a first-rate man
from London concluded upon the whole that it
would be best for the poor young man to die. At

240 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

the breakfast-table the ladies spoke of the afiSur
in a whisper, so as to keep it from Sir Percy^s
hearing. But the bluff admiral no sooner entered
the room than he bawled out, " Well Froth, my
hearty, what cheer P Have you seen the lawyer
this morning ? " The old sailor had no very
precise notions of Mr. Terrier's professional quali-
fications. " I never saw one of the quill-driving
breed show such mettle. Dash my buttons ! but I
thought one of you'd lose of the number of his
mess afore you'd done playing with that cheese-
toaster together."

" Cheese-toaster ? " says the duke, " what's the
admiral talking about ? "

" Oh nothing," whispers Lady de Crecy.
"Some silly dispute about cards I believe.
I wish the admiral would not rake it up
again."

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 241

€€

Is there really any danger of lock-jaw, Lord
St. Xitts ? ** asked the duchess, timidly (Mrs. Lan-
yard had informed her before breakfast that fatal
symptoms had already declared themselves).

" By Jove ! " says St. Kitts, shaking his head,
"I don't know, but I wouldn't mind taking
odds about it.''

Her grace, who had never been on the turf, did
not gather his exact meaning. ** How dreadful !
how very dreadfiil!" she exclaimed, picturing to
herself the gashed hand. ''It makes one feel
quite ill. Don't talk of it, pray."

" Take a pick-me-up," suggests St. Kitts, who
might have thought her grace was about to faint.

" A what ? " inquires the duchess.

"A pick-me-up," repeats St. Kitts ; " B. and S.
is the best at this time of day.'* But the duchess
was not enlightened.

VOL. II. 16

242 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

" I do hope and trust, Sir Percy/' said Lady
Selina, "you have not disabled the poor man
for life. Which hand is it that he has lost P "

" God knows/' says the colonel, " he is deuced
lucky not to have lost them both."

" How you can talk in that way I If he had
lost both he would have been good for nothing."

" That's true/' says the sententious colonel.

"What an awful row it must have been/'
says Miss Helen to Lord Northern. " And did
you really separate them? What heroism! you
deserve a medal from the what-d^ye-call-em
society, I should so like to have seen you,
though I'm sure I should have screamed.
Weren't you frightened ? "

" For myself or for them, do you mean ? "

" For yourself, of course ! Why you know you
don't care about any one else in the world."

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 243

"H*m/* said he, putting his hand into his
pocket to touch the letter. " I've a great regard
for Terrier, he's a good honest little fellow."

'^StUl I should hardly have thought you would
have risked your life for him. I wonder now
whether you would have done as much for me P "

When the game is wild and distant it is well
to load with a heavy charge. Helen's game was
distant indeed — absent almost, as she could plainly
perceive.

«EhP For you? What do you mean? If
you had been struggling with Froth P Ghracious !
Helen, if the brute "

^'Hush! don't speak so loud. Ha, ha! what
an idea! Fancy! I didn't mean that exactly.
Besides I'm twice as strong as that wretched
creature : I should knock him down in a twink-
ling if he had the cheek "

244 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

" To touch yours P eh Nelly P "

" Pshaw ! I should like to see him try it on ;
or any one else."

" Defiance provokes daring."

"How do you meanP Defiance P" says Miss
Nell, coyly averting her pretty face.

"Wait till we're aloi^, and you shall have a
practical illustration."

"I don't understand you," say Miss Helen's
lips. " I wonder whether he'll dare P " say Miss
H.'s thoughts.

At last the moment of release arrived:
Northern flew to his room ; meaning to lock him-
self in, and there feast on his treasure in secrecy
and seclusion. Alas! the housemaids were at
work, and his lordship's valet was arranging his
lordship's clothes. It would be long before they
had finished, for the valet^ being a gentleman of

THE MIDLA14DS AND OTHEBa 245

wit and gallantry^ would doubtless entertain the
two young women with many brilliant and polite
remarks. Driven therefore from this asylum he
hurried off to the conservatory. Here at any
rate he will find a sanctuary. Flinging himself
into an easy-chair, amidst orange trees and balmy
flowers, he drew forth the delicious packet ; and
tearing off the cover, he guages at a glance the
tenor of its contents.

There was the brief note— how brief !— from
her, and an enclosure, sealed, from Lord de Crecy.
Daisy's letter was laid aside, reserved till every
other thought was done with. De Crecy's was
opened and read : with diflSculty he brought him-
self to translate the language into corresponding
ideas. " That I should repeat to you,'' he iterated,
^*the explanations which Lady de Crecy has
afforded me concerning your presence in the

246 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHEBS.

b'brary'^ "so/* he mused, "they have had it out
together, and she has made him write this bosh
instead of sending me a challenge. The cur ! he
dares not face the devil with so much hypocrisy
on his soul ! " " H'm, h'm ; his impardojiable blun-
der forsooth. Do I not know that he suspects her
still P and imputes to her — ^the darling angel ! —
conduct for which his own foul life can give no
other precedent P Why does he try to gull me
with his ridiculous protestations of generosity?
Does he think I will forgive him P The beast !
never — ^no never! . . The shooting — ^yes, I
would manage the shooting for him, if I could
put a charge of shot into his filthy carcase. I'll
see him and his shooting — " the remainder of
the sentence was finished with a grind of the
teeth, and a crunching of the offensive document
in Lord Northern's angry fist. " Now,'* said he.

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 247

tuning his mind to a very different key. Before
tmfolding Daisy's letter lie pressed it fervently
to his lips. How short it was. It's very brief-
ness forewarned him of its unwelcome tone. On
first perusal it seemed to contain nothing but his
conge. The question of superintending the day's
sport was of such trivial consequence that he forgot
that in the shock of separation. He must go.
There was no evading this. He must be oflF.
His last day at Tinselby had come. So long as
he stayed on, so long as he could say to himself,
" I shall see her again/' his present life had its
amenities. He might be stretched on the rack,
but his parched lips were now and then mois-
tened with balm administered by a beloved hand.
She might avoid him by keeping her own room,
by surrounding herself with her company, but
could not evade his society at breakfast, at lunch.

248 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

at dinner. The whole eyening she must be
in the same room with him. At night they
slept under the same roof^ they breathed the
same atmosphere^ mixed with the same people.
True, the minutes which kept her from his sight
were hours. True, while he was not at her side
impatience and ennui were unbearable. Still the
minutes did pass, he did see her again^ again he
heard her voice, even when not addressed to him-
self, and eyery last word and last movement and
look were fresh and ever fresh food to live upon
till the intervals of separation were gone by.
But away from Tinselby altogether, — ^ah, the
misery, the torment of it ! And this was now to be
repeated; again, ay, over and over and again.
" There is, and can be, no end to it,'* cried the un-
happy youth, clasping his throbbing head in both
his hands as if to prevent it splitting with the

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 249

anguish of despair. In vain he fixed his eyes on
yacancy^ and strained them with gazing into the
future. There was no comfort there, no respite,
no peace, nothing but insatiable, unbridled, and
disappointed passion; nothing but a Hell, to which
any other (I should say) must be Elysium.

The imlucky emigrant who has left home in the
fond dream that every turn of the spade will
bring up a nugget, learns by degrees to content
himself with the minute grains which, with ach-
ing heart, he finds to be the actual yield. North-
em read Daisy's letter again and again ; but the
outpourings of confessed love, which he had
counted on, were not there. He sifted the words
now for one that might by straining bear the
wished for interpretation. He selected this sen-
tence : " If you leave, I shall at least be unmolested ,
If you remain, it must be at the cost of my peace.*'

250 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHBRS.

*' It is then/' lie argued, '' only to save her from
molestation that she wishes me to be gone. The
wish to be rid of me is forced upon her by that
man's brutality. But for his violence she would
wish me to stay. Of course she would wish me to
stay. *If you remain/ she says, *it must be
at the cost of my peace.' What admission of
her own imhappiness could be more clear? What
avowal could be more direct that her anguish
is analogous to my own — that she suffers as I
suffer, and from the same cause ? '' At this dis-
covery of their meaning he kissed the delightful
words with renewed rapture. " See here too,'* he
exclaims : " ' and, as you know, at the risk of my
personal safety,' the *my' is erased. What an
exquisite inuendo! Tes> dearest ! you knew that
I should imderstand you. Why is this little 'my'
blotted out, yet left so legible ? It was rejected

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHBRS. 251

because you wished to comprehend us both in one
sentiment. Tour thought was of our safety. How
sweet is this * our ' when it binds two destinies
into inseparable and perfect oneness." When this
thimbleful of comfort was drained, his reflections
again took a gloomy turn. "What availed it if she
did love him ? This only made his lot more hard
to bear. *Twere better she should be indifferent.
After all, was it sure that she did love him ? Cer-
tainly her love was not like his. It was under
her control, and therefore cold. Her nature was
cold — cold and hard. She had no conuniseration
for his sufferings. She was incapable of compre-
hending the intensity of a devotion like his. How
else could she have written such a letter? So
unfeeling — so cruel. What an idiot he was to go
on year after year idolising an idol, worshipping
a creature of his own creation. What else was

252 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHEKS.

this Daisy of lis fancy ? The real Daisy was as
unworthy of his love^ as she was insensible to its
depth and constancy."

But who does not know how this kind of fever
alternates with ague? now this way, now that.
There he sat motionless externally^ but tossed
fearfully by a tornado within. So dead to the
outward world was he, that he did not notice the
figure which stood near him. ; although it was the
very being about whom he was at that minute
raving. Lady de Crecy had sought the retirement
of the conservatory for reasons somewhat sinular
to Lord Northern's. She desired to snatch a few
minutes of privacy, where amid her darling
flowers, which she loved like any bee, she coidd
soothe her nerves and brace her energies for the
duties of the day.

The irregular shape of the conservatory, fiUed,

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 253

too, as it was, with evergreens and large tropical
plants, hindered her from observing Northern,
whose chair was drawn within, and concealed by,
a sort of bower of lemon and orange trees. She
came upon him quite unawares; and stood a
second undecided whether to retreat or stay ; a
movement of his head in her direction left her
without choice. Both were for the instant equally
astonished and taken aback. The lady's habit of
self-command enabled her to give a lead to the
conversation.

*'You here! " she exclaimed, with a nervous
smile. "Why! I thought you had been with
the shooters. They are looking for you every-
where. They can't stir you know till you are
there to lead them.''

Northern rose slowly from his seat. "How
could you tell the shooters were looking for me

254 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

if you thought that I was with them ? " There
was no rudeness in his manner. He too snuled
as he spoke ; but both his yoice and look were full
of sadness. " That you supposed I was with them
however/' he continued, " is pretty certain, or you
would not have entered here.''

She tried to conceal her trouble by breaking off
a sprig of orange blossom. " Have you read my
letter ? '* was the reply. The question slipped
from her tongue inadvertently. She repented
of it as soon as put.

" I have.''

" And you will comply with my request ? " she
pursued, with eyes upon the ground.

" I have no choice."

*' You are not angry p "

" With whom ? "

"Me."

THS Un>LAin>S AIO) 0THBB8. 255

" No."

" It is for the best." '' '''

"WhatisP"

" That we should — ^that you should leave."

"You were going to express yourself differently
— ^less harshly."

" Was I P 'Tis all the same. You must feel
that it is best : do you not P "

" For whom P For whom P I say."

" For everybody."

" Who is everybody P "

" Yourself, my husband.'*

" Your husband I and for no one else, Daisy P "

" Why, of course for me, if that's what you
mean."

" Yes, that's what I did mean. But do not mean
it any longer. It is now a matter of indifference
to me."

256 THE MIDIiANDS AND^OTHEBS.

^ Thank you. You are kind." A sudden gush
of tears was here gulped down with difficulty.

** Why should it be otherwise P " he asked.

She replied with a look only. A look fdU of
tenderness and reproach. He was stone now.

*'How can it be otherwise to me," he went
on, ** since it is indifferent to you whether I go
or stay ? "

" How can you speak in that way P"

'' Is it not so P "

She was silent.

**Is it not sqP Why will you not answer me? "

One of the tears, a large heavy pearl, could
keep its place no longer. It fell to the marble
floor. The tear's resting-place was not harder
than Lord Northern's heart.

" No, I am wrong. You are not indifferent. In
one sense of course you are not : when I am gone

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 257

you will be saved from molestation; my
presence I am aware does subject you to the
risk of annoyance. ITotbing but my selfishness
blinded me to the fact so long. The truth is,
Daisy, I was fool enough to think — well, no
matter. There is an end of it now. I shall be
miserable for a time, I suppose. God knows
what will become of me ! But as not a soul in
the world cares "

" Northern ! '* Daisy could say no more, she
would have choked else.

"No,'* he pursued, "I was worthless before
I loved you, and I shall become worthless
again." And the thought ot his misery at last
touched the heart that was insensible to every
sorrow but its own.

The case was diflferent with Daisy. She raised
her swimming eyes and dimly beheld the young

VOL. II. 17

258 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

ApoUo— magnificent in his olive velvet, superbly
picturesque in his scarlet neck-tie, his head bare,
his short brown curls wildly dishevelled, his close-
shaven face showing the fine outlines of his chin
and mouth — she beheld in fancy this young god
of her affections knocked oS his pedestal, shattered
and profaned by the foul hands of corruption.
She heard his threat, and believed it. She heard
him lay the charge to her. She thought of her-
self only as his destroyer. It pained her sharply.
She forgot her own misery and grieved for him.

" Daisy," he took her hand, " if I could leave
you in the persuasion that you not only knew
what anguish your sentence of banishment inflicts
upon me, but that you pitied me, felt some slight
sorrow for me, it would "

" I do,'' she gently murmured ; and he felt the
soft pressure of her softer hand.

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 259

" O Daisy ! I could bear my lot, if not without
suffering, at least with better courage, could I but
believe that the hateful struggle was shared
by you. One word from you, dear Daisy. Think
how long, how truly I have loved you. Think
what this love has been to me. How it has puri-
fied me. How it has raised me from an abyss
of worthlessness to — to the contemplation of all
that is pure and lovely. I can endure any-
thing — everything, I will go, I will never see
you again till you yourself shall summon me,
you shall never hear my name even, never again
shall my presence cast its baneful shade upon
your happiness — ^but grant this one consolation
to support me, Daisy. Speak, dearest! '^

An arm is round her pliant waist. The two
faces are in close proximity. She trembles from
head to foot : indeed she might fall did he not

260 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

support her. Her brain whirls : her consciousness
is failing.

" Do you love me P " he whispers, and the
next moment his lips are glued to hers.

In an instant every nerve and muscle recovered
its wonted tension and vitality : there was no
more faintness nor timid trembling, no more weak-
ness of either flesh or spirit. Northern was a big
strong man, but his power in that moment of her
mighty revulsion was nothing as compared with
hers: she flung him from her: she darted at
him a look of wild resentment, such as might
have followed had he struck her. He stood
rooted to the spot. She turned from him, and
fled.

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 261

CHAPTER XIII.

The morniag was bright and frosty, an inch or
two of snow lay upon the ground ; but it was dry
and crisp, and creaked musicaUy under the foot,
as the crowd of sportsmen, keepers, and beaters
moved to and fro in front of the hall in busy
preparation for the battue. I^othing could be
more inspiriting than the ensemble of this cheer-
ful scene. The sky a dazzling blue, the ground
as dazzling white, and rendered more sparkling by
the glitter of the surface crystals, which the win-
ter's sun had just power to liquefy. The keepers
in their green velveteens, scarlet waistcoats, and

262 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

gold-laced hats, the gun-barrels shining as they
caught the rays, the frantic joy of the retrievers
bounding and dancing round their masters and
rolling their curly coats in a bath of snow — all
contributed to the liveliness and brilliancy of
the picture. By degrees the gentlemen assembled
on the lawn. They were now lounging in
groups, and waiting only for the arrival of their
director, the Marquis of Northern. Here was the
duke in his costume of the past half century, with
gaiters above his knees, his old Joe Manton — ^flint
and steel — ^under his arm. A huge Newfound-
land, of a breed now rarely seen, watched and
followed his master's movements with stately
solemnity; treating the importunate pother of
his canine brethren with dignified urbanity
seasoned with disdain. Here too was the admiral,
in a pea-jacket, holding forth on the merits of a

THE MIDLAl^DS AND OTHERS. 263

single-barrel fowling-piece, which he called his
" stem-chaser." " She'll fetch 'em down at any
range/' says he, " provided you allow enough for
windage, and is as good for round shot as she
is for grape or canister.^'

"Egad! admiral," says one of the party, "I hope
you will stick to the canister to-day, or some of
your two-legged game will be of the imfeathered
kind, I fear."

" Damme," says the owner of the weapon, " it
won't be the first time neither. A slug or two
about the quarter-gallery of that hot-headed
lobster would be a wholesome counter-irritation,
by George ! "

The baronet, to whom the allusion applied, was
just now cursing his soldier servant. ''Double,"
he roared, [calling his man up to him, " why
the don't you double P Blast you ! "

264 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

To be the colonel's regimental servant was no
sinecure, I fancy. Good conduct badges, ten or
fifteen years' service, and the appertinent pensions,
were often forfeited by bis bondmen for a few
minutes' unpunctuality, an ill-varnished boot, or
some such grievous breach of military discipline.

Mr. Seabright, who by the way had long given
up shooting on the score of humanity, and merely
came out to see the start, was not a little shocked
at the colonel's language. " My dear Sir Percy,"
said he, gently laying his hand on the other's arm,,
with a smile to cahn a fever; "the race is not
to the swift. You see the man has his pockets
fuU of ammunition, and cannot run without
spilling it."

" Jolly weather, squire," says Lord St. Kitts,
addressing the last speaker ; " not much pressure
on the square inch to day, eh P "

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 265

'^It is indeed delightful/' said the rector,
radiant as the very sun ; '' it almost makes me
wish to carry a gun myself. Though 'twere a
sin (for me, however) to devote such a heavenly
day to the destruction of innocent life."

" Ah," returned the earl, " I don't go in for that
sort of thing. Have a weed P No I pinch of snuff,
perhaps? Well there's no accounting for taste.
For my part, can't do without it — this last infir-
mity of a noble mind. But there's some excuse
for me : I reserve all other vices for my old age."

" Heaven forbid ! " said the parson, " that you
should ever indulge in one of them. Though as
to innocent pleasure, I am all for every one's
enjoyment of it. We must however be careful,
as the great and wise Locke puts it, that we be
not deceived by the flattery of a present pleasure
to lose a greater."

266 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

"The great and wise party aforesaid has my
fullest concurrence/' rejoinedhis lordship. " Wine,
women, and tobacco, as another eminent bloke
expresses himself — or words to that effect —
are indispensable to them as can't do without. I
acknowledge my exigencies,- and rejoice to find
them supported by so venerable a pillar of the
church."

Mr. Seabright was about to pursue this ethical
discussion when a general move and a cry of
" Here he is, here comes Northern,'' brought the
colloquy to an end.

" I hope you have not been waiting for me,"
says the marquis to a knot of impatient country
neighbours. " I'm so shocked. I had no notion
you were here. Father, why didn't you make a
start of it P "

" Not without you, boy," says the old gentle-

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHEBS. 267

man, proudly ; " I know nothing about driving
pheasants into a comer and shooting into the
brown, as you youngsters call it. In my day we
were satisfied with walking 'em up. But I
suppose there ain^t a span'el between this and
Clumber now.''

In a few minutes the whole party was in
motion. As they spread over the lawn they
looked like a little army ; and ere they approached
their first covert, troops of hares began to skirmish
over the park in all directions like piquets of
light cavalry. Mr. Boaks, the head keeper, an
individual who appeared to be all body and no
legs, was in close attendance on the marquis.
Since daybreak this functionary had been hard at
work. He had planted his nets, placed his stops,
and fed and partly counted some fifteen hundred
pheasants. And if keepers be troubled with senti-

268 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

ments or reflections the least resembling those of
other mortak, Boaks must have experienced a
pleasing conflict of feelings as he looked upon those
confiding birds which Specked the hand just raised
to shed their blood/ The keeper's supreme hour
had arrived. Would the bag be greater than
that of former years? Would it surpass the
great day's sport at Lord Hurlingham's^ when
that nobleman on a certain royal occasion had a
thousand pheasants down from Mr. Bailey's pre-
serves in London Town ? Would the snow stop
the pheasants from running P Lord Northern, in
answer to these anxious questions, believed there
was no snow to signify inside the woods ; and if the
birds were given plenty of time there was no fear
but they would go ahead.

When the gims were told off to their respec*
tive places, and Boaks had himself conducted his

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 269

' ighness/ as he called the duke, to an advanced
post, the word was given to " go on slowly." In a
few minutes the firing became continuous. Fear-
ful was the slaughter to the bewildered denizens
of the wood. St. Kitts, nimble as a cat, blazed
away on every side, now bowling over a rabbit
between the legs of some pottering squire, now
'realizing^ a woodcock before it rose a yard
above the underwood. The admiral, confiding in
his redoubtable stem-chaser, let drive at every
thing without regard to range. While Froth, too
out of temper to touch a feather, consoled himself
by perpetually anathematizing his unlucky man.

Leaving the shooters to enjoy themselves in
this way, let us now return to Tinselby. How
fared it with the imfortunate Daisy after the
incident which terminate! the interview in the
greenhouse P It would be no easy task to analyze

270 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

her emotions in the first moments after what we
may call that sad catastrophe. She had been
betrayed, by a most fortuitous succession of unto-
ward events, into something equivalent to an
avowal of her passion. The constant strain of
the last few weeks had brought on imawares a
state of sensibility which rendered her liable at
any moment to some impulsive outbreak of feel-
ing. Nature required relief; and took it after
her own fashion, without consulting the casuistic
scruples of the patient. The scene of the pre-
ceding evening, the restless and dreamftd night,
the effort to dismiss Northern, the sympathy she
felt for his distress, the restraint imposed upon
her outward behaviour in a house crowded with
guests, the shock at finding herself alone with
Lord Northern, his cruel charges of indifference,
of selfish regard for her own interests, and for

IHB MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 271

these only; above all, the thought of bringing
perdition on the life and soul of the man she
loved, — combined with overwhelming force to
scatter her studiously framed resolves to the
winds, and leave her unprotected in such a crisis
to the rapturous entrancement of her own and
her lover's passion. This one brief instant had
however sufficed for the therapeutic purposes
of reaction. At once there followed a sense of
humiliation and reproach, a feeling of ruffled
dignity, a blow to the pride of rectitude, a con-
tempt for her own weakness, a shame that
scorched her cheeks^ vexation and anger with
herself, and still hotter anger against the man
who had made her the victim of this turmoil.

These were the direct consequences of the fact.
Presently their ferment subsided a little. The
kiss-that first, very first kiss of sexual love in

272 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

all her life — (ah ! how sweet it was !) began to
tingle on her lips again, darting its thrill through
every nerve. Sin or no sin it was a fact acoom-
plished. If she lived a thousand years that kiss
would be as sweet and fresh as now.

But upon the heels of bliss, trod the sorrowing
spirit of atonement. The stored-up forces of om-
nipotent Habit rushed to the front, like reserved
troops eager to prove their intrepidity. The
strength which had been quietly laid by, that
strength which is accimiulated little by little, day
by day, till it builds up the permanent state which
constitutes character, welled forth and swept before
its flood every trace of weakness and indecision.
" It is the first time I have consented to guilt,"
she mused, " it shall be the last. ^Regrets are
idle — I am not what I was. I can never respect
myself, I can never trust myself again. I have

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 273

made myself contemptible in Northern's eyes.
He will think, of course, henceforth that I must
yield to anything and everything. I have no longer
the right to impute injustice or cruelty to Lord
de Orecy. I have confessed my love, my criminal
love, to another man; and am become the deserv-
ing obj^t of my husband's wrath and jealousy.
But it is useless to repine. I have but one course
open. I must atone for my sin. Whatever the
struggle may cost me, whatever hopes of happi-
ness I abandon, I must be firm. However repug-
nant the line of conduct which conscience
prescribes, I must follow it without flinching.
And follow it I will. As to excuses, my sinful
heart would furnish me with a thousand. Not
one of them will I listen to. It were death, and
misery worse than death, were I to fall into the
gulf which just now yawned beneath me. How

VOL. II. 18

274 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

near I was ! Providence only could have rescued
me. And even now, how am I to escape tempta-
tion ? Only by avoiding it. To-morrow he must
go. And shall I see him before he goes P How
will he behave to me P And the parting ? There
must be no parting. And must he leave me im-
forgiven ? It is hard to bear. But it is best so.
When he is gone he will write. I will answer
him, and crush his love for ever. No vaciUation
now ; no looking forward to possible events ; no
subterfuge to condone subtly lurking hopes : his
I never can be ; his I never will be : and he must
and shall believe it.''

In this valiant mood she boldly faced a project,
which was always vaguely present to her. It
was the bitterest of all pills to swallow ; but there
was no help for it. Northern must marry Helen
Seabright. And she — Daisy — ^must j oin the others

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 275

in bringing about the marriage. Henceforth this
design must become the main purpose of her Hfe.
Her conscience could never rest imtil it was
fulfilled. Only by the earnestness and sincerity
with which she set herself to this repulsive task,
could she make amends for that sinful weakness
which to her dying day could never be forgotten.

A few trivial obstacles to the scheme of marry-
ing I^orthem to Helen did cross her, it is true.
The most formidable was the Wharton love affair.
But though she had always regarded the engineer
as Miss Seabright's most favoured sidtor. it was
evident from the girl's behaviour diat Mr. Whar-
ton's chance could hardly be made worse by the
Zdterference of any one in short, that Miss ITelly
was quite ready to accept the marquis without
reference to other convenience than her own.

Besides, l^ady de Crecy was bent upon martyr-

276 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

dom. Come what might, she had now made up
her mind to fling herself upon the funeral pile.
What other oflTerings were consumed in the con-
flagration, or what the pile itself was built of,
she left (conversely to practice of the faithftd
patriarch) to the provision of a careful Providence.
And now that the voice of duty had become
imperative, it summoned her to further acts of
self-negation. Contrite and subdued, she was
filled with severity against herself, but in equal
degree softened towards others. She had not been
near her husband since last night : the neglect
was a reproiach to her. She had never inquired
after Mr. Terrier : the omission proved how
selfish and unfeeling was her heart. So she
determined to seek the former at once ; and then
visit the wounded guest with as little delay as
possible.

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 277

Lord de Crecy was at his breakfast. The nn-
usuakiess of her visit surprised, if not alarmed,
him. Not even the events of the past evening
quite acoomited for her presence: such incidents
were too common to call forth such a consequence.

" Daisy ! '* he exclaimed, rising with astonish-
ment to meet her; *'Good morning, my love.
Has anything happened P *'

" I came to see how you were."

"No! Did you though. How kind of you,
darling. Here, take this easy-chair ; it is more
comfortable. I'm so glad to see you. You look
so well, dear, this morning. That dress becomes
you so wonderfully. Nothing suits you better
than black velvet. You look charming.**

" I'm glad it pleases you."

" Are you now ? are you really ? How nice of
you to say that. There's nothing in the world

278 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHEKS.

^[lakes me so liappy as your desire to please me,
Daisy/'

"I hope I shall always strive to please you.
If I fail, if I inadvertently give you pain, you
must be patient with, and forgive, me. I am
very — wicked sometimes."

•Lord de Crecy winced. It was clear she had
something exceptionally flagitious on her mind
just now.

"Wicked, my love. What do you mean?"

" That I am wanting in my duty to others — to
you. Lord de Crecy, at times. But I intend to be
more circumspect, more watchful over my conduct.
And I trust you will have fewer occasions to — to
think unkindly of me."

" Unkindly P Bless my soul ! You know I
never, never think of you otherwise than as the
purest, gentlest, best of angels. When did I ever

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 279

say anything that — well to be sure, I am now and
then a little hasty, I own. And last night — ^but
appearances deceived me. And you must do me
the justice to admit that appearances were — ^were
— ^in short, that there was some excuse for my loss
of temper. But for God's sake, Daisy, let us say
no more about it. You can't think how dis-
tressed I am about the whole aflEair. You know
how it grieves me to give you a moment's uneasi-
ness. And — and — did you deliver those letters,
darling?^'

" Yes, with my own hand."
" What did he say P Is he going P "
" Of course he will go. I wrote as I told you
I would. My letter left him no choice in the
matter."

« And the shooting ? "

" That is all settled. Lord Northern has un-

280 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

dertaken the management. I saw the whole party-
start about a quarter of an hour since."

" How kind of you, dearest, to arrange these
things so charmingly. Shall you take the ladies
out to lunch with the shooters ? "

" I believe they wish to go."

" Shall you go yourself, my love ? "

''Yes, I may as well. I thought of driving
the duchess in the pony carriage, and sending the
others in the britska."

" If the duchess wishes it, of course you must
accompany her ; otherwise the day seems very
raw, and there's nothing so penetrating as snow."

" I'll take good care of myself. 'Tis quite fine
and warm out. You don't want me for any-
thing P " she asked as she was leaving the room.

Lord de Crecy held out his hand, and drew his
wife towards him. He would have kissed her

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 281

lips. She almost shuddered. Were they not pro-
faned? or consecrated — which P She inclined
herself, and allowed him to touch her forehead.

She then left him, and went straight to Mr.
Terrier's room. The doctor had just finished
dressing the agent's hand. The Duchess of Mid-
land was there, on the same errand of charity
which had brought the hostess. Her grace had
been chatting with the invalid for half an hour
or more. A great amount of business was often
transacted between these two. Besides minis-
tering to the wants of the Longthorpe indigent,
legions of miserables — ^real and feigned — ^impor-
tuned her from London, and the United Kingdom
generally. It was quite as difficult to this capa-
cious-hearted lady to say 'no,' as it would have been
in fact to comply. Every case was therefore re-
ferred to Mr. Terrier. And if the omniscience

282 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

imputed to him did not extend to the merits of
the applicants, he was, at any rate, accurately
acquainted with my Lady Bountiful's means of
relieving them. Terrier was one of the most
tender-hearted of men^ yet he was not devoid of the
qualifications essential to a man of business. He
knew there are only twenty shillings in a pound.
Her grace's information^ indefinite on all statistics,
was especially so on questions of cuiTency.

Nor were the interests of this good dame con-
fined to the physical necessities of her neighbours.
She was endowed with a perennial desire to see
every one comfortably settled ; which often meant
married, without reference (in a worldly sense) to
' settlements ' of any kind. Her own life had
been one continuous course of contentment. With
her disposition, her acquiescence in the order of
things— whatever that might be, her utter uncon-

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 283

sciousness of any " problem '* not to be solved by
absolute faitb, she could hardly have been otherwise
than happy. But inasmuch as she ascribed her
happiness to her extraordinary good fortune in
marriage, she (with characteristic logic) concluded
that all young people must be miserable unless
united in the bonds of wedlock. This being her
view of life, she of course could not refuse her
sympathy even when the lover's sorrows were fche
just reward of worse than folly. Often did it
happen that when the duke returned from a meeting
of the Longthorpe guardians, the duchess would
ascertain that some imfortunate girl and her un-
fathered infant had been refused an asylum, as
belonging to another parish. Then, with tears in
her eyes, she would wheedle the duke, and coax
Mr. Seabright, and no peace would either enjoy
until the case had been reconsidered, the poor girl

284 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

admitted, and both mother and child supplied
from the castle with soup^ flannel petticoats^ baby-
linen, and heaven knows (aye, and records) what
besides. " Bless this good lady's heart ! " Mr.
Seabright would sometimes say, " there wants no
encouragement from her to £11 the country side
with bastards.*'

"He says he feels more comfortable now,"
replied her grace in answer to Lady de Crecy.

"Does it pain you very much?'* asked the
hostess.

*' Oh dear no. It is a mere scratch, I assure you.
I am ashamed to be the cause of so much trouble.
Lady de Crecy."

" It was so wicked of Colonel Froth ! " ejacu-
lated the duchess. Had that delinquent been
the sufferer, I almost fear his sentence might
have been reversed.

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 285

" Yes," says Daisy, " It was so spiteful/'

" Well," cries Terrier, whose vanity was always
on the alert, " we must admit some provocation.
He got a pretty smart box on the ears."

" I hope," says Daisy, " it may be a lesson he
will not soon forget : the horrid man ! he might
have killed you with that dreadful knife."

"As to that," says the gentleman, "he ran
quite as much risk himself: I should certainly
have had the best of it if I hadn't caught my foot
in the carpet. Sir Percy Froth indeed ! why
I could throttle half a dozen such whipper-snap-
pers as he is, I should hope."

"I should think," says the duchess, "this
must convince Helen Seabright what a temper
Colonel Froth has."

For such apposite remarks the duchess had
quite a genius. Lady de Crecy changed colour.

286 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

And Mr. Terrier was scarcely less interested.
The agent bore no malice against Sir Percy for
his wound's sake, but Froth was not the man he
wished to see in possession of that prize.

" I hope Miss Seabright is in no danger of any
delusion on that subject/' said he. '^ Besides, there
are other considerations which should ensure her
safety ; and which can hardly have escaped your
grace's observation."

" What are theyp "

"Well 'tis pretty plain, I fancy, that Miss
Seabright's partialities are already prepossessed
in favour of a certain marquis, whom we need
not name."

" Ah ! " sighed the duchess, with a tender look
at Daisy (the dear soul never concealed a thought
in her life). " Ah, if he would but return it ! "

" But he does, at least he will," exclaimed Daisy.

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 287

" I'm sure he will. He cannot be blind to Helen's
good qualities. And the fact of their long inti-
macy too — ^it is so desirable. I'm sure no one
could more sincerely wish for it than I do,"
There was a fervour in her tone which attracted
even Mr. Terrier's notice.

" I am so rejoiced to hear you say so, dear,"
murmured the duchess ; and gave Daisy a little
squeeze of her hand ; which of course she ought
not to have done (so Daisy thought) in the pre-
sence of the agent.

" I must confess," said Terrier, " such a match,
though most advantageous for the Seabrights,
would not be without its recommendations to his
lordship. Not to mention the personal attrac-
tions of Miss Helen, which as a man (Mr. Terrier
felt his superiority at the present juncture), as a
man, I cannot but think worthy of the ducal

288 THE MIDULNDS AND OTHERS.

coronet ! — the aUiance would materially conduce
to the completeness, if I may so speak, of liis
grace's Midland property. This, as you are aware,
madam, is in places very much intersected by the
Priory estates ; and the union of the two houses
would in virtue of the law respecting the ^feme
coverte, as the wife is legally termed, obviate, by
a merging of the two in one, many inconveniences
which we at present suflfer from."

" Yes, indeed," says the duchess, who thought
this all the stronger reason in that she did not
the least understand it. " And do you think, dear
Daisy, that he really loves her ? " blandly asked
her grace.

" I think and hope, sincerely hope, he will do

so."

" If I might be allowed to express an opinion
on so delicate a subject," said Mr. Terrier, " I

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 289

think the marquis has shown more attention to
Miss Seabright lately; and indeed, if I may be
permitted to use the term, attention of a warmer
character.'*

" In any particular instance ? " asked Daisy,
forgetting her resolutions in a moment.

"Well, indeed, ladies, it is hardly for me to

speak of such things. But " Mr. Terrier

blushed and smiled simultaneously.

"Oh we won't tell,'' said Daisy, suddenly
consumed with curiosity. "Perhaps they are
engaged already."

" Nay, nay, I do not believe that, nor in truth
wouldmy observations warrant any such inference."

"Let us judge for ourselves, Mr. Terrier. What
were your observations ? "

" Yes, what were they, Mr. Terrier ? " chimed
in the duchess.

VOL. II. 19

290 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

" Indeed^ indeed, ladies, I don't think I ought to
repeat what I was perhaps not intended to hear."

"Now you have raised our curiosity, you are
bound to satisfy it : come tell us. We wiU not
nurse you any more unless you tell us.''

" Well," said Mr. Terrier, " when they were '
playing at chess '*

" Where ? " said Daisy.

"In the drawing-room: they were near the end
of the game, when *'

" Was any one else present ? *'

" No one but myself. Miss Helen said— cer-
tainly with what I should call empressement (Mr.
T. pronounced the word *ongpressmong') — *F11
take you.' "

"WeU?"

" ' Well,' says the marquis, * if you take me,
I'll take you.' I of course moyed off at once ;

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHEBS. 291

for the position you will admit was one of
delicacy."

" I declare," laughed Lady de Orecy, who was
as much pleased as entertained^ '^ I declare, Mr.
Terrier, I think you must be jealous : no one
but a rival would convert the language of the
chess-board into a proposition of marriage."
Then checking her mirth, "We must hope," she
added, " for some more convincing proofs of his
attachment. But tell me, Mr. Terrier, you who
live at Tramways, and have so many oppor-
tunities of judging, how stands Mr. Wharton in
the fair Helen's graces P I thought, at one time,
he was the accepted, or certainly the favoured,
suitor of Miss Seabright.''

" Mr. Wharton ? oh dear no. To be sure he
was, what may be termed, very sweet upon Miss
Helen. But I am not aware that there was any

292 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

reciprocity on her part. No, no, Wharton is a
very worthy man — an excellent man of business
— that I must do him the justice to admit, but as
to his matrimonial pretentions, why I might as
well make Miss Seabright an offer myself, ha !
ha!"

Mr. Terrier wished the ladies to confirm this
assertion ; but they had their own reasons for
remaining silent. The duchess was gratified.
Lady de Crecy was not equally so, by the infor-
mation.

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 293

CHAPTER XIV.

About two o'clock all the ladies, and such of the
gentlemen as were not sportsmen, drove to the
covert side; where the rest of the party were
already collected, and were now busily engaged
in preparing luncheon. In front of the entrance
to a spacious tent a large pine wood fire was
burning down to a heap of serviceable cooking
embers. Lord St. Kitts, who positively declined
assistance from the attendants, superintended the
culinary department ; which consisted in heating
the soups and stews abeady prepared in the
kitchen, and grilling ab initio with a masterly
hand a plentiful supply of juicy mutton chops.

294 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

" Who's for Irish stew P Who's for muUiga-
tawnyp'' shouted this energetic young artiste.
" Hot pot6.toes ! all hot, all hot ! Here you are.
Chop for a lady — underdone ? all right. * Rich
and rare were the gems she wore, and fixed was
the glare of her glassy eye/ What'll you have
yourself, squire ? Nothing ! Jejunus raro sto*
machus vulgaria temnit, eh ? That's ahout your
tune, I suppose."

" Nay," says Mr. Seabright, who was serving the

ladies, '^ you must not call these dainties vulgaria;

my maxim is Qua virtus et quanta, boni, sit vivere

parvo : especially when I make an early dinner," he

added with a laugh.

"Lord St. Kitts," cries Lady Selina from the
tent, "will you bring me some Irish stew, please P
All the gentlemen but you are busy eating."

" Stew P in a brace o' shakes. Fond of onions P "

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 295

" You shouldn't ask."

" Beg pardon. Here you are — ^a love — sweeter
than violets.

' She hath no loyal knight and true,
The Lady of Shahtr*

"Have you killed more than any one elseP'*
Miss Helen asks of Lord Northern.

" IVe killed nothing, I believe, but a blackbird ;
which I mistook for a woodcock."

" Dear ! How lackadaisical we are. One would
think you were crossed in love," says the young
lady, 8oUo voce. The marquis sidles off to Lady de
Crecy.

" You eat nothing," he murmurs.

" I've had enough," said Daisy out loud. " See,
Mrs. Seabright wants her plate changed," and
her ladyship turns to address Mr. Evans.

"You hit the right nail on the head there,"

€(

it

296 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

said Sir Percy Froth, taking Northem^s yacant
seat by Miss Nelly's side.

"Eh?" interrogates the young lady with no
very encouraging manner.

" I say you didn't shoot at the woodcock, and
kiU the blackbird, ha ! ha ! ''
I don't quite understand."
Don't you ? " says the colonel. " 'Tis pretty
evident why his lordship misses the pheasants.''

" Why P "

" Because he aims at other game."

" What game ? "

"Come, come. Miss Seabright, you'll teU me
presently you haven't a pair of eyes of your own.
But you can't say," he whispered, " they ain't un-
common bright ones."

" Really, Sir Percy, you are very plain spoken,
but at the same time quite unintelligible. If

THB MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 297

you intend to shoot any more pheasants I advise

you to take less cherry brandy."

'*You are mistaken. It sharpens the powers

of vision^ calms the nerves, steadies the hand,

clears the intellect, warms the heart, and rouses

the best and tenderest emotions of our nature."

" Sir Percy ! Behave yourself, sir."

'* There now ! You are so unkind. I did but

touch your hand, and you shrink as though I

were a leper. See there — ^no, the other way —

how much kinder a certain lady of high degree

is to that supercilious young marquis, than you

are to poor me. Look how he languishes over

her. "Watch how passionately he devours her

with his glances. And Fm sure she's not half

so cruel and hard-hearted as you.''

" You are mistaken," returned the girl, indignant
on her friend's account. "I wish you would go."

298 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

" Mistaken ? Then you are not hard-hearted ?
not cruel to me P Is this your meaning, sweet
Helen ?^'

" You are tipsy, sir I '* and the young lady
turned her back with a look of anger and disgust.

" Ha, ha.! *' laughed the colonel. "You despise a
miserable baronet, do you ? Which are you going
in for — a duke's coronet, or a bricklayer's hod P "

Sir Percy Froth had, as Miss Seabright divined,
imbibed just half a glass too much of inspiration ;
and mastered by the jealousy which had long been
stinging him, he inadvertently plunged into hos-
tilities, where he hoped, though desperately, to
conquer by diplomacy. And now having draWn
the sword (to borrow an expressive metaphor), he
resolved to fling away the scabbard. But an hour
afterwards he could have bitten his tongue off, for
so betraying his temper.

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 299

Luncheon ended, the energetic St. Kitts was as
eager to renew the shooting, as he had been actire
at the repast. He got the ladies into their car-
riages, called the gentlemen to their guns, ordered
Boaks to send the beaters to their places, and soon
set the party in train for an onward move. Lady
de Crecy was seated in her pony phaeton. The
duchess was already at her side, Lord Northern
seemingly unconscious of the duties which na-
turally devolved upon him, left St. Kitts to fill the
place of leader ; and having vainly endeavoured
to whisper a few words to Daisy, was listlessly car-
ressing one of the ponies in her carriage. At this
instant a rabbit ran across the drive. A shot
was fired at it. The ponies started. Lord Nor-
thern was knocked down. Both wheels passed
over one of his ankles, and by the time the groom
had checked the horses, and Lady de Crecy had

300 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

looked back^ the young man was lying on the
ground half-stunned by the shock, and groaning
with the pain of his injured foot.

Daisy's first feeling was, that the accident was
due to her own careless manner of holding the
reins. Terrified and concerned beyond measure,
she sprang from the phaeton, and flew to the spot
where he lay. No false sense of decorum re-
strained the demonstration of anxiety. She forgot
the presence of all observers, in the alarming con-
dition of the prostrate sufferer. She threw herself
upon her knees in the mud, raised Lord Northern's
head between her hands, and implored him, in
tones which betrayed her anguish, to speak or
show some sign of life. Her voice and touch
seemed instantly to cliase away the sense of pain.
He looked up into her face and smiled, as though
the situation filled him with delicious ease. But

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 301

some kind friend began to lift him ; and the
injured joint getting a twist, the sharp pang
speedily remedied itself by a fit of anoesthesia.
Fifty restoratives were at once suggested by the
bystanders, who were now gathered in a throng
around the fainting youth. " Eaise his head," says
one. " Lay him flat," shouts another. " Water,
water," cries Lady de Orecy. " Give him a good
stiff glass of grog," bawls the admiral. *^ Better
send for the doctor," suggests Mr. Seabright. '* Or
rather take him there," says Mr. Evans, " and
move him into the carriage at once before he has
time to recover his senses."

As this seemed on the whole the best advice,
it was adopted ; and fortunately the marquis was
more than half-way home before his consciousness
returned.

What are bodily pangs when weighed with

302 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

mental? They are as feathers in the scale.
How many wretched beings put themsdves out
of the world they can no longer endure to live in?
Yet scarcely one of them^ perhaps^ for his mere
body's sufferings. The martyr at the stake accom-
panies his imaginary flight to heayeji with tuneful
hymns. And so long as there are Heros^ Leanders
will not be wanting.

Lord Northern had received a severe injury.
His ankle was dislocated; the interior of the
joint much bruised; inflammation had set in; and
for many days and nights he hardly got an hour's
rest. But would he have bought off these evils at
the price of separation from her of whose incessant
mindfulness of his smallest want he was receiving
incessant proofs ? Not he. He revelled in his
misfortune. A shake of the doctor's head meant
another week at Tinselby. A sleepless night

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 803

brought its consolation in the shape of a thousand
delicious visions of the oriflamme, round which
his ardent fancies rallied. Ah ! it was too bad of
the Inconstant and Blindfold Goddess thus to roll
her wheel over this young man's instep. What
havoc was she not working — not with legs and
ankles only^ but with passions which, sometimes
forsooth, associate themselves with these. After
all poor Daisy's excellent resolves too; when
temptation was actually conquered ; when victory
was won; when trial was at end. It seemed
as if fate itself were bent on her destruction : as
if 'twere useless to wrestle against her destiny.
How subtly the arch-tempter — Cupid — ^assailed
her now ! The young scamp soon discovered
how vulnerable the sweet creature was on the
side of pity. He incited her to a thousand little
acts of tender care, every one of which inflamed

304 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

the wounds his poisonous darts were hourly in-
flicting. He it was who taught the unsuspicious
Daisy to sweeten the youth's gruel with her own
taper fingers ; to give Mrs. Tucker five hundred
orders a day about the sick-room and its tenant ;
whom she would have bartered the whole plane-
tary system to have the right — ^the legal right —
of visiting as often as she longed to do. And
what else was it prompted her to such marked
and sudden veneration for the worthy Dr. Crick ?
Did she not treat him with much greater atten-
tion than she would have showed to a royal prince?
And would she have done so, think you — ^would
she have made love to him, and have called him
her "dear doctor," had he been attending my lord
De Crecy — say? H'm — We have our doubts
upon the subject. But I am confident this young
woman never asked the learned doctor half so

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 305

many questions about the yiscount's gout, as she
asked about the marquis' bruise : nor indeed ever
thoroughly understood about the articulations of
the metatarsus, until the learned practitioner
kindly made them clear to her. Then, too, on the
night after the accident, I verily believe she
actually left her warm bed to listen, in the
drafty passage, for the groans of the poor fellow
whom she had nearly " murdered." But was she
to be blamed for this P Was it then her duty to
neglect himp Was she bound to feel indif-
ference P Or was it not incumbent on her, as
a woman and a Christian, to tend the sick ; and
administer the oil and wine herself P

These and similar nice questions of casuistry
puzzled her sorely now and then. How often in
the twenty- four hours, for instance, was it her
duty to inquire in person after the young man's

VOL. II. 20

306 THE MIDLAl^DB Al^D 0THEB8.

wound P How long was it right to stay at each
visit ? If he were ordered to keep his bed, was
it necessary that she should wait until he was
allowed to use the sofa ? What was the moral
distinction between a bed and a sofaf If Mrs.
Tucker, who was a spinster, superintended the
dressing of the Marquis of Northern's foot, why
should there be impropriety in her doing so P If
Mr. Terrier's foot had been wounded instead of
his hand, would she have asked herself aU these
questions P She thought not : and so do we; But
you see, this dear lady's conscience was mightily
thin skinned ; so she yexed herself with doubts,
and with restrictions which the doubts imposed
upon her. She re&ained from a multitude of
little actions perfectly innocent in themselves,
which probably she never would have hesitated
to perform but for certain references she was for

^

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 307

ever making to that unlucky incident in the green-
house. As it was, nothing on earth would have in-
duced her to visit the invalid alone. Sometimes
she went in with Dr. Crick ; sometimes with the
duchess or the nurse; or when she knew that other
visitors were in the room. But the worst of all
this was, the more she kept away — ^the more she
restrained herself from seeing the patient, the more
both she and the patient cursed the restraint, and
longed for its removal. So it fell out, that the
accident, by degrees, made matters worse than
they were before. And the inflammation of poor
Daisy's heart increased, as that of the marquis'
leg subsided.

There were no such obstacles as these to hinder
the Duchess of Midland's visit to her son. There
were but few hours out of the twenty-four that
the fond mother was absent from the bed-side of

308 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

her boy. And what hand can smooth the suffer-
er's pillow more gently than a mother's? Some
ancient sage philosopher (was it Gray?) has
shrewdly observed that we have but one such re-
lative. The implication thus attached to all beings
excluded by the term — ^mother, may not be flatter-
ing; but the truth is undeniable. As to friends, we
have either legions or none, according, generally,
to our deserts. Wives or husbands, in many coun-
tries, are left to discretion : the only restriction
here is, one at a time. Children will, in any case,
depend on circumstances. And as to fathers, is
it not a wise man who knows his own P But the
mother — true, sage ! we have but one. When
she is gone, do any of us find another P Sometimes,
however, like the air we breathe, we take but little
notice of the luxury until deprived of it. North-
em's mother, like other mothers, had watched so

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 309

many times over his bed, from the days when that
bed measured about three feet nothing, that he
had got used to seeing her loving face there ; and
thought no more of calling for, or dismissing its
light, than he did of ordering the window-bHnds
to be drawn up or down. But what other re-
mimeration do these faithful watchers get or ask,
as a rule, than to be aUowed to watch P The
Duchess of Midland was quite content with this
lucrative honorarium. And her son, I own, was
nearly as selfish as any reasonable mother could
desire. This one would write letters for him till
her poor old fingers ached. She would read to
him till her poor old eyes grew dim. And when
the day closed in, and she could write and read no
more, she — oh that wicked mother ! she allowed
her boy to talk to her about Daisy de Crecy ;
allowed, and I sadly fear encouraged, him to tell

310 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

her how miserably he was in love with another
man's wife.

" But Nordy darling/' she would say, looking
up from her knitting with eyes too moist to count
the stitches, " can't you forget her, dear ? can't
you try P "

" Forget her, mother ! Whaf s the use of talk-
ing to me like that P You know I cannot. You
know I never shall, as long as I breathe. Don't
you now P "

" Well, yes, dear Nordy ; but then it cannot be,
it cannot be ; it is so very, very wrong, dear."

"Wrong! Good God! mother, which is most
wrong, I should like to know, to marry her as
Do Orecy did, or to love her as I do P Was she not
mine-nune in the highest sense, by the sacred
pledges of true and holy love, long enough before
that profligate old beast seduced her P "

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 311

" Hush ! dear, hush ! "

" Well, what else was it but seduction P Didn^t
he use every kind of hypocrisy and cant to be-
guile her ? Didn't he make her believe he was a
saint, and I the most debauched of rakes ? If she
had been anything less than a saint herself, she
would never have believed in such a scoimdrel,
by Jove ! '*

What arguments had the simple dame to oppose
to the impetuosity of the lawless young sophist P
She could say nothing in detraction of the object
of his passion. She was as fond of Daisy as she
was of her own daughter ; indeed, if she had
only known it, fonder. It had been a dreadful
blow to the duchess when Lord de Orecy's mar-
riage was announced. She had always looked
upon Lady Daisy Lea's union with her son as a
certainty. Lady Selina was a long time winning

312 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHEBS.

her motlier oyer to the scheme of mairying Nor-
thern to Miss Helen Seabright ; and strongly as
the duchess adyocated that match now, for its
moral recommendations^ had there been no such
invention as morality^ I would not say what she
might have wished for.

But Lady Selina was always watchful for the
wel£Eure — the spiritual welfare, of others. Nor did
she neglect the present occasion, to impress upon '
her brother's mind, how a warning voice had now
summoned him through the blessed visitation of
pain and sickness, to the paths of peace and
righteousness. Many beautiful passages did she
cite to him on the sinfulness of seeking pleasure
in this world. Most eloquently did she set before
him the sublime religious principle of sacrificing
the transient joys of this life, to secure infinite
bliss in perpetuity. She read to him (may he

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 313

have digested them) several of Dr. Howlit^s de-
lightful discourses from his celebrated " Abomina-
tion of Desolation." She gave him many little
tracts to peruse in her absence^ instancing miracu-
lous cases of conversion brought about by acci-
dents similar to his own. And ever when she
left him, this excellent young woman devoutly
thanked Heaven for the charge it had graciously
vouchsafed to her care ; and meekly shed a con-
gratulatory tear over the prospects of her own
salvation.

These somewhat depressing interviews with his
sister, were relieved by the society of plenty of
other visitors. For the week or so during which
the Marquis of Northern was confined to his own
apartments, a levee was daily held there by such
of his friends as were really glad to see him. The
duke and Mr. Terrier would sit by the hour, and

314 THE MTDLAin>S AND OTHERS.

consult him about the business of the estates. Mr.
Evans would come and chat with him ; nor was
there any one of the party whom the invalid took
more pleasure in receiving. For besides the
agreeableness of this gentleman's conversation, his
intimacy with, and attachment to, Lady de Crecy,
made him particularly welcome to Lord Northern.
Now and again the latter had been on the point
of making a confident of him. He longed for
some friend to whom he could pour out his passion :
and there was a shrewdness and a reticence about
Evans that fitted him pre-eminently for the trust,
and invited confidential communications in this
case, just as the same qualities and the same acci-
dental considerations had half tempted Lady de
Crecy, once before, to convert this common friend
into a confessor. With her, the extreme delicacy
of the subject, and the consciousness of Evans'

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 315

secret admiration^ rendered the sclieme practically
impossible. But with Northern the matter was
different. There was every reason for consulting
Eyans, and nothing but pride or shyness prevented
his speaking. As yet however, the moment had
not arrived for this.

Meanwhile others helped to relieve the mono-
tony of confinement. Seabright, who was a great
Mend of Dr. Crick's, often sought the doctor in
the young man's chamber ; where Northern in-
cited the two philosophers to the fiercest disputes
on psychological pathology; sometimes siding with
one, sometimes with the other, partly from his
own interest in the discussion, partly from the
entertainment it afforded him to see these other-
wise placid and amiable men excite themselves
to the highest pitch of mutual contempt and
animosity.

316 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

Sir Percy Froth was not a constant occupant
of the lame man's room ; but the admiral came
and spun endless yams. As to St. Kitts^ not a
day passed but the good-natured fellow went and
** cheered the old boy up/' as he said. Through
him, I^orthern heard all the gossip, local and
general. Through him he learnt full particulars
of the baronet's little affair with Miss Seabright :
how Sir Percy had imbibed rather too freely of
certain cordials, and had first made love, and
finally made war; how disgusted the baronet
was with his own conduct afterwards ; and how
abjectly he had atoned for his offence.

" You don't mean to say,^' cries Northern, with
a hearty laugh, "that Froth confided all these
follies to your faithful bosom, St. Kitts ? "

*' Well, he isn't fond of writing himself down
an ass, I know ; but you see I twigged him in the

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHEKS. 317

act. Poor old Percy ! I can't help laughing ; there
he was, on his knees to the lovely Helen : she
looking as petrifying as Medusa/*

"Was he in earnest then, do you suppose?
Does he really want to marry the girl ? *'

" Quidn sabe! He's so plaguy deep, is Percy.
I should have thought he might be eager to annex
coin ; but he 'assured me some time ago the pewter
was all tied up in Mortgage.'*

" Ha, ha ! you don't believe all he tells you, do
you P He was afraid you might be making a bid
for the heiress. Bless you ! I know the beggar's
little game. He has been up to it ever so long.
He hated Wharton because he fancied he was in
his way : he hated "

"I suppose she was rather saccharine on
Wharton, wasn't she ? "

" Nelly p Lor ! not she. Though, hang me !

318 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

if I wouldn^t sooner see her married to him than
to any of 'em. No," said the marquis, with a sigh
(he was thinking, no doubt, how misplaced were
her affections), " I'm a&aid she doesn't care much
for Wharton."

" Perhaps, old chap, you know whom she does
care for ! " St. Kitts closed one eye by way of
intimating that he had a pretty shrewd guess.

Lord Northern, though not without a blush,
denied the implication. ^^I know," said he,
^^ Froth thinks that I stand in his way ; and
hates me accordingly. But he is jealous of
everybody, the donkey ! even of poor little Ter-
rier, who has about as much chance of getting
her as Tartlett, or any other of the five hundred
mufis who periodically offer to spend her fortime
for her. I hope you chaffed Froth on the humi-
liating posture in which you foimd him."

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 319

" Didn't I just ! I told him I was afraid the
lady was too insensible of the honour he was
doing her. And advised him to

'Crouok no more on suppliant knee,

But scorn with scorn ontbrave.
A Briton, eyen in love, should be
A tyrant, not a slave.'

* Egad ! ' cried Percy, ' you're right, my boy.
But they say if you want to rule,' you must
first learn to serve.' By Jingo ! I pity the girl
who takes Froth into her service. Though the
chances are she wouldn't see much of him three
weeks after marriage."

320 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

CHAPTER XV.

And what view did the subject of these specula-
tions take of her own affairs P it may be asked.
Had Miss Seabright quite got over her indigna-
tion with Wharton for the warnings which she
had so unluckily misapplied P or did the offence
still rankle in her bosom P Perhaps gentler feel-
ings, and those too centred round another object,
were tending to exclude all recollection of her
devoted engineer. Who can tellp When the
print is small, and the carriage shaking, the best
of eyes cannot read the text. There are some
little hearts that go pit-a-pat, now with one little

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 321

passion, now with another, till, deuce take it I if
one can tell what they mean. The chances are
Miss Nelly did not know herself. It is possible,
if she had known more definitively what the
Marquis of Northern intended, she might have
had a clearer notion of her own intentions. She
was not heartless ; she was not a flirt. She did
not encourage Sir Percy Froth ; she did not trifle
with Mr. Terrier. She snubbed Mr. Tartlett,
and she did not even try to make St. Eatts un-
happy. In her own way — ^to be sure this was not
the most violent of ways — she loved Wharton ;
and had Northern been as much in love with her
as Wharton was, she would certainly have loved
him too. Have you never divided your affections
in this way, gentle reader P Have Captain Mac-
heath's cheerful sentiments never found an echo in
your manly bosom? Well, well! We must not
VOL. n. 21

322 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

blame the girl for her affection to her old playmate.
His brilliant position, his personal advantages, his
masculine character, his talents, his amiability,
were enough in themselves to fascinate any woman.
And besides these there was the natural liking
which had spnmg out of their childhood's in-
timacy. Who then can accuse her of legirU or
vacillation, if she was ready to pick up such jewels,
should she at any time find them at her feet?
Nevertheless she knew how devotedly the engin-
eer was attached to her. She could not but
admire, his character also. There was a solidity
about iii, which a certain lightness in her own
nature instinctively prompted her to value at its
worth. There was (alas ! forthe sake of sentiment
that worldly wisdom should have a voice in such
matters) so much uncertainty about Northern, that,
as yet, it would be recklessness to cast away the

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 323

other. And although, in one sense, the certainty
she felt respecting Wharton was not without its
sedative effect, the ambition of her mother was
likely to prove so strong an obstacle to this match,
that the difficulty partly counterbalanced the ease.
A zest was therefore given to that prospect, which
in the absence of other motives might operate
with considerable force.

With facile dispositions like Miss Seabright's,
which accommodate themselves readily to circum-
stances, the external influence for the time being,
whatever it may be, is always potent in its effect.
Of course^ no one is unmoved by outward sur-
roundings (women less so than men), but the
difference of their weight upon natures like Nelly
Seabright's and Lady de Crecy's, for example, is
immense. Vain and intensely fond of admiration,
Daisy was keenly susceptible to every contact

324 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

which, however remotely, reflected praise or dis-
praise upon her sensitive consciousness. Yet,
however much her behaviour — her manner, rather
— was affected for the moment, there were
recesses in her nature, deep reservoirs of strong
feeUng and fixed principle, which the commotion
at the surface never reached. Nelly, on the other
hand, though less easily disturbed superficially,
had no such depths within her ; and was a hun-
dred times more readily turned from any purpose.
And though perhaps more confident of her own
firmness than Lady de Crecy was of hers, would
follow a lead from without or within, not the
least aware that she was either yielding or impelled.
While Lord Northern was laid up. Miss Sea-
bright saw nothing of him. There was no plea
for her entering the young man's chamber. In
the meantime she enjoyed herself as usnal- re-

y^

THE MIDLANDS AKD OTHERS. 325

ceived abundant homage from all the gentlemen :
and however she might have missed him, cer-
tainly did not pine for her friend's society. It
was during this week of the marquis' seclusion
that she received the following letter from Miss
Mumford : —

« Mt deab Helen,

<* It must be admitted that this response to yours of
the 15th ultimo is somewhat tardy. The best excuse
I am able to plead is ill health. I have been suffering
this good while from an unusually sharp attack of
siatics. And though the complaint is at present alle-
viated by the careful regimen I have kept, it has left
me but a poor creature, and with little stomach either
to the task of writing, or any other fatigue. Your
letter is fuU of spirits ; and the animated description
it set forth of the doings at Tinselby helped not a
little to break the monotony of my secluded life. For
though I am past active participation in the world's
frolics, I am not too old, and please God never shall be.

326 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

to relish at secondhand the enjoyment of them by
the young.

** Much however as it diverted me to receive the par-
ticulars of your merry-makings, there were I confess
passages in the letter which did not afford me the
same unmixed satisfaction. The candour with which
you refer to Mr. Wharton justifies some freedom of
speech in me. I must say then that I am truly con-
cerned at the offence which this very worthy young
man seems to have given you by his strictures on the
character of Sir P. F., neither will I conceal from you,
my dear, how vexed I am by your warm defence of
that person ; whom I had hitherto considered you as
quite indifferent to. For my own part I can discern
no parity between the two ; so vastly superior in my
eyes does one appear to the other. And were I in
your place, or of an age to think of such things, I
should certainly not choose my beau as you seem to
have chosen. It is not necessary for me to express
on this occasion my opinion of a man whom I could
never bring myself to tolerate. But with regard to
Wharton, you are well aware that I always admired his

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHEBS. 327

great abilities, his sound judgment, and his sterling
probity of character : and though he may not give
himself the airs of a fine gentleman, I certainly con-
sider him fully as genteel as some who do. The whim-
sies of taste however are past accounting for : and if
*tis true, as you say, that you have a real liking for Sir
P. I can only pray you may not be disappointed in
your choice. If however the warmth of your praises
of him spring partly out of pique to Mr. W. (which I
am not altogether out of hopes may be the case), it is
then not too late for me to caution you with some
words of friendly advice. As an old woman, and one
who has loved you from your infancy, I claim this
privilege. And though the admonition I am about
to offer implies the belief that it is needed, I know
enough of your affectionate disposition not to fear
that you will take umbrage at my remarks. •

** And now, my dear, you are young, you are favoured
in looks, and you will be rich. Any one of these
conditions would subject you to peculiar trials. The
union of the three renders you specially liable to danger.
With respect to your youth and your beauty (what I

328 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

say to you, mind ! I would say to any girl in the like
position), these two qualities are sure to procure you
admiration — ^not the less dangerous because sincere.
Fortunately for you, my dear, you are not so vain as
many. But every woman loves to be admired ; and
every woman's greatest danger approaches her under
the mask of admiration. There is no man who has
had any experience of our sex but knows this point of
our weakness ; and whether his intents be honest or
otherwise, it is through our vanity that the road to
conquest lies. Now too many women (to their shame
be it spoken) go such lengths to gratify this passion
that they seek it at the expense of modesty ; and crave
admiration even when they care nothing for the
admirer. Men soon find them out. If they do pos-
sess beauty they are surrounded by followers : but it
is not to seek a wife that men court their society. It
is on the contrary with such designs as the woman's
own conduct has suggested ; and she — silly fool — ^may
lose her head by flattery, which in reality means no-
thing but the man's estimate of her wanton character.
I may pity but cannot defend the woman who pays the

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 329

penalty of her folly by misery and remorse. For no
woman was ever mined except by her own collusion.
No profligate, however abandoned, wastes his wiles on
genuine modesty. True Virtue, like Ithuriers spear,
detects these venomous reptiles. They shrink from
contact with it as the toad shuns light.

** My love, when I write in this strain I am moved
to spleen by the thought of those who may surround
you. So do not resent these cautions as though they
reflected solely upon yourself.

« To come now to your prospects of a fortune. I
would not have you think because I bid you listen to
all' admirers with diffidence and reserve, that all men
merit nothing but suspicion. There are some (I need
not name them), whom both of us know, of the
highest integrity, of the noblest natures. But, as I
was going to say, the heiress who unfortunately fancies
her money to be the sole attraction about her, often
poisons her own mind with error, flings away her
happiness, and does grievous wrong to an honest man.
You are too intelligent, my dear Helen, to need that I
should strengthen these observations by particular

330 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

instances. I only hope your good sense may render the

remarks themselves as little needful as their application.

<< Your most affectionate friend,

** L. MUMFORD."

^'P.S. Is anything settled about your going to
Town before Easter ? "

This severe epistle, which the worthy old maid
had written under the influence of disappoint-
ment, mingled with indignation at the young
lady's supposed inconstancy, called forth this
rejoinder : —

** Well I never ! What can your dear old head have
been dreaming of to think I deserved such a jobation ?
and all for nothing too 1 If I wasn't just about the
best tempered being in the world I should be furious,
and scold you worse than you do me for being so silly.
Yes, silly, you dear old thing, as to make such an
absurd hash of my letter, and misunderstand every
word I wrote in it. How could you imagine I was
alluding to that odious creature Sir Percy Froth ? A

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 831

real regard for him indeed ! Yes, I should think so I
I can*t help laughing to think you should have worked
yourself up to such a pitch in the notion that I had
fallen over head and ears in love with a man like that,
I fancy I see myself Lady Froth 1 No thank you. I
flatter myself (you say I musn't allow any one else to
flatter me) that I am not quite brought to such * re-
duced circumstances ' yet. Why, it was Northern of
course I meant. And how on earth you could sup-
pose it was anybody else, beats me hollow. I forget
what I wrote now, but surely I must have mentioned
his name. And how was I to know that W. meant
Sir Percy and not Northern the whole time ? Didn't
he say ever so much about his rank and his ancestors,
and what a swell he was, and all that sort of rubbish ?
Of course I thought at once he meant Northern. No
one would ever think of talking of Col. Froth like
that. But my dear beloved Miss Mumford, I do hope
you did not go and tell H. W. that I had not only told
you how angry I was with him, but also that I had
confessed my attachment to Sir Percy. This would
be too horrible, especially as now you know how very

332 THB MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

untnie such a statement would be. Of coarse I for-
give W. now I see who he alluded to. And am
sorry I did him the injustice to think othenvise. Only
I must say it was his own fault for speaking of Col.
Froth as a rival, which I assure you he never oould
be. Indeed you know well enough what I feel about
H., and ought never to be afraid of anything of the
kind ; though this I need not say is in the strictest
confidence, and must not be repeated to any one.
'' And now, my dear friend, I think you will see that I
was not quite in such need of all your fine advice about
the dangers to my youth and beauty as you imagined.
I thoroughly appreciate (is this the right number of
p's ?) the wisdom of your remarks ; though who
Ithuriel was is rather beyond me even now. I asked
papa about him, and he says he was an angel. Whether
this is chaff or not goodness knows. But if an angel
he be, only fancy my looking the party up in a ^ Bio-
graphic Universelle ! * I naturally thought he might be
an ancient Boman at the least. But as to my fortune,
and who to believe and not believe, you may well talk
of the difficulty of that. I should say, on a moderate

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 333

computation, every unmarried man in this and the ad-
joining counties, irrespective of age or anything else,
has done me the honour to propose. One can*t accept
them ally so I go on the other principle. Seriously, I
confess it would be a satisfaction \ofeel it was oneself
and not one's money that was wanted. But xmless
one has the luck to meet with one to whom money
is no object, this isn't so easy as you may think
for.

*' I have spun out such a long letter that I have no
time to tell you any news — except about Northern's
accident, and the row between the two gentlemen;
which the duchess told me she had written you a full
account of. So I need add no more, only that Northern
is now nearly well, and is to come downstairs in a day
or two, which I for one am right glad of. For he is a
great loss to the party, independent of my being too
sorry for his misfortune. By the way, as to London,
we shall probably go to an hotel before Easter, as
mama says we are too poor this year to take a house
for the whole season. And pappy as usual (when he
doesn't care) does as he is told. Good-bye. Do not

334 THE MlDLAJn>S AND OTHERS.

scold me any more till I deserve it. And believe me
your most loving

" Nelly."

The light-heaxted writer of the above was not,
as we may observe, deficient in discretion. She
had paid out enough line to give the fish already
hooked plenty of play. It would be time enough
to break with him when she had the option of a
better. Miss Mimiford was delighted with this
answer to her reprimand. The avowals which the
young lady had made in the / strictest confidence'
were reassuring in the highest degree ; in fact they
said, as plain as words could, that she always
meant to take Wharton, and would adhere to that
intention. The old maid did not lose a single post
in communicating the joyful news to the distant
lover. She did not send him the original docu-
ment you may be sure. In the first place, she

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 335

never showed to any one a single [line of a letter
addressed to herself. Under no pressure of curi-
osity was she known to break through this rule.
Secondly, she would not have deemed it advisable
to run any risks by submitting a composition of
the kind to a person whose judgment she rever- ^
enced so much as Wharton's. In Miss Mumford's
youthful days it was not the fashion to be ' slang.'
Young women did not think it enhanced their
powers of captivation either to dress or to talk
like young men. The old lady therefore was very
careful of her sentences ; and was punctilious in
her style of writing as she was in demeanour and
all her notions of propriety.

But if she did not forward Miss Helen's letter
she culled its choicest flowers. And the heart of
the enraptured engineer glowed, as he inhaled their
fragrance, with renewed admiration of the peerless

336 THE MIDLANDS AJSD OTHEKS.

creature who condescended thus to speak of Iiim.
He had nobody, he needed nobody, to whom he
could say "Was there ever such an angel ! To
think that she should be in love with me! '* But
if he breathed the divine name in the dumb soli-
tudes of the woods only, his glad emotions found
vent in his extra kindness to old Spilman. With
him the costly sacrifice was made to Venus Epis-
trophia. Plentiful libations of the ruddy wine
were poured forth on these occasions to the pro-
pitious 'goddess. Bich viands strewed the plate
of the frugal language master : and rejoicings
now, and visceral derangements for a week to
come, solemnized the advent of these welcome
tidings.

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 337

CHAPTER XV.

The self-sufficing Wharton had disciplined his
character to keep even the strongest emotions
within control. But if he could dispense with
the luxury of sympathy — so delightM to every
lovei^— our noble friend Lord Northern had never
learnt to bear his troubles witli such stoicism.
Indeed from the hour of this nobleman's birth^ it
had been his custom (and the whole world encou-
raged him in it) to acquaint others with his mis-
fortunes^ and on aU occasions to make demands
upon their active sympathy.
The opportunity he had long been seeking to
VOL. II. 22

338 TSE MIDLANDS AND OTHEBS.

confide in Evans^ at last offered itself. The fol-
lowing conversation, which led up to it, took place
in the marquis' bedchamber.

" In one sense/' said Lord Northern, " it was
lucky, as you say, that the accident was no worse.
But the thought has crossed me many times,
while lying on this sofa, that had the wheel dis-
located my neck instead of my ankle, it would
have been better for me, and for others too."

"Ah," returned Evans, causticly, "you are
hipped by confinement and inaction. A gallop
across country, a debate in the House of Com-
mons, or a couple of grains of blue pill, will set
you right again."

"Eight! lam never right, my dear Evans.
You don't know what a miserable fellow I am."

" And whose fault is that, pray, if not your
own I With tite world at your feet, you have

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHBRS. 339

nothing to do but set it rolling in any direction
you please."

"Bah! This is just my misfortune. What
are called the advantages of wealth and position,
have few illusions for those who have always pos-
sessed them. Of course it is very pleasant to be
toadied ; but the penalty of doubting the sincerity
of one's friends sometimes more than counter-
balances the enjoyment. To others^ ambition
affords an outlet for superfluous energy. The
field is wide enough for mine, you wiU tell me:
I know it is so. But a man in my position is
feebly spurred by the common inducements to
distinction ; and the higher motives — ^patriotism,
or benevolence — ^are, I take it, oftener the out-
growths of self-seeking than spontaneous effu-
sions of our nature. One cannot derive an
impulse from a motive one despises: hence I

340 THE MIDLANDS AKD OTHEKS.

fiEul to attaiii the height I might otherwise
aspire to.**

^' But why should distiiiction, which you affect
to look down upon, be despicable in kind P All
self-seeking motives are not necessarily selfish or
ignoble. An action performed for the integrity
of one's own character is self-regarding, but
certainly not contemptible. The distinction
awarded to noble deeds will confer a pleasure on
the doer of them, as pure as man can feel. The
position you are disposed to quarrel with affords
occasions for the exercise of your worthiest
efforts : a really benevolent man would soon turn
them to the happiest account. No man like you
ought to be unhappy. Human beings, with very
few exceptions, are compelled to toil for a small
share only of the luxuries which you command
in superfluity. From all the pains incident to

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHEBS. 341

poverty (and they are countless) you are excep-
tionally exempt. Are your sympathies roused by
individual want, you can gratify them with ease :
if they extend to the infelicity of your fellow-
creatures in general, your station lends immense
weight to your eflforts in their behalf. You have
health, good abilities, some cultivation, youth and
good looks. What more a man needs to make
him contented, the gods themselves would be
puzzled to divine, or bestow."

" And yet,*' sighed Northern, " I am miserable.
All the possessions you have enumerated seem
worthless in my eyes compared with one object,
which, alas ! I never can possess."

"If that be a certainty," said Evans, drily,
" the sooner you cease to desire that one object the
better. If circumstances will not yield to us,
there's nothing for it but to yield to circumstances."

342 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

** I have endeayoured to do so/' said Northern,
with a choking voice. " I have striven with all
my might : but it is useless. I have tried every
thing : I have tried solitude, and I have tried
excitement : whatever I do leaves me worse than
I was before.''

"My dear Northern/' said Evans, laying his
hand in a friendly manner on the young man's
shoulder, "permit me to read you a bit of a
lecture. You have used the word * excitement ' :
did it ever occur to you, that what you have tried
as an antidote has been the bane of your exist-
ence ? Like thousands of others — ^from the vener-
able Ecclesiastes downwards — ^you have been
deluded with the notion^ that life should be a
continual state of rapture. Your sole business
hitherto has been to find some delight which
you had not yet exhausted. Hunting, shootings

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHESS. 343

racing, yachting, travelling, gaming, and other
little amusements^ which shall be nameless, have
each been tried and flung aside in turn. Excite-
ment^ perpetual excitement, is the only state which
makes life tolerable to you. Now, I should be quite
of your opinion that incessant bliss — ^uninterrupted
ecstasy — ^would be worth pursuing, were it] but
attainable : not being so, it is best to take the fact for
granted. You, on the contrary, insist on verifying
the truism by experiments upon yourself. The
fact is (excuse my mentioning it), it is simply
waste of labour to concentrate one's energies on,
one^s own happiness : like you, I have given the
theory a thorough trial; but abandoned the
attempt at last as hopeless. Curiously enough,

from that time I ceased to be unhappy."

"In plain language,'* said Northern, "you
believe I am miserable because I am selfish P'*

t(

a

844 THE lilDLAKDS AND OTHEBS

*' Precisely so."
Flattering, certainly ! In what way selfish ? '*
By making the most charming woman in
the world miserable, through the most reckless
attempts to make yourself happy."

ITorthern bit his lips, and for a minute or so
made no reply. "You are mistaken," he pre-
sently repUed, " her happiness is dearer to me
than life."

" Then why do your utmost to destroy it P

'< Were she mine^ she would be happier than
she is now."

" Idle sophistry ! "Were Lord de Crecy*s wife
your mistress^ all the misery you have felt in
working such a change would be pleasure com-
pared with her agony at its achievement."

" She would be my wife."

" And the world's outcast ! "

iy

a

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 345

She is too proud to care for the world's

opinion.'*

"Tut man! never beKeve it. She is more
vain than proud — ^vain as every charming woman
is^ and ought to be vain^ delighting in the appro-
bation of others, and hence always striving to
give pleasure : no nature so full of tenderness, so
sympatheticandsensitiveas hers, can be otherwise
than vain in such a sense. The complacency,
which you mistake for pride, would not uphold
her for a second. Were she to stain her pure
conscience, her pretty arrogance — her engaging
egotism, would be crushed for ever. The act you
contemplate would bring that queenly soul to
grovel in the dust. Whatever pride she has
would only serve to make her ruin and her misery
complete. Look you. Northern, I have some re-
gard for you, but a good deal more for her ; and

346 THE MIDLAKBS AIID OTHEBfif.

I would sooner stand by, and see you strike her
dead, than have you commit a crime which would
bring her to her grave by slow torment.'*

There was a pause.

'' Come/* said Evans, breaking it, *' take a
friend's advice. Be a man. Give up Lady de

Crecy, and marry Helen Seabright."

" What ! Marry — marry Helen Seabright !
Ha ! ha ! ha ! '' And the young fellow's bitter
guffaw reached all the way to Daisy's boudoir;
and made her wonder what the joke could be.

" Perhaps it is Mr. Evans," thought she, " he
said he was to be there at four. Perhaps Crick
is there too. I want to see the doctor about the
old man at the almshouses. I'll just send Tucker
to find out who is in the room."

Mrs. Tucker came back to report that his lord*
ship was conversing with Mr. Evans. Lady de

^

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 347

Crecy had not seen Lord Northern for two days —
two long days. She only visited him in company
with others. Evans' presence would enable her to
do so now. Before she went she glanced at the look-
ing-glass to ascertain how much of her heart's
inquietude was visible in her face. She had also
to finish and seal a letter to her sister. These
things occupied a couple of minutes or more;
meanwhile Evans was gone.

When Lady de Crecy had knocked at the
marquis' door, and was admitted, she perceived to
her alarm that she had fallen into a snare, which
the powers of darkness themselves must have laid
for her. To retreat directly that she found
herself alone with Lord Northern would have
betrayed such an avowal of her own weakness,
such an implication of guilty purpose somewhere,
that she instantly resolved to face her situation.

348 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHEBS.

" I thought/' said she, forgetting the strict truth
in the midst of her perplexity, " I thought that
Dr. Crick was with you. I wanted particularly to
see him about an old man in the almshouses.''

" I expect him every minute," said Northern,
who expected nothing of the kind. *^ It is already
past his time. He is sure to be punctual. But
his visits now are purely matter of form. I have
his permission to go downstairs to-morrow. You
see I can walk quite well." And to prove his
words the speaker changed his seat for one by
Lady de Crecy.

" I am thankful to see that your recovery is so
complete* I should never have forgiven myself
had I been the cause of a life-long misfortune
to you."

" Shouldn't you?'* said Northern, mechanically.
He was not thinking of himself; he was think-

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHEBS. 349

ing how beautiful and how agitated Daisy looked.
" I meant to go down this evening/' he added,
'* if you had not come here. The last two days
have been terribly long to me.**

" I couldn't see you yesterday, I was engaged
from morning till night/* apologized the lady.

" And from night till morning I was thinking
what you could be engaged in.**

Lady de Crecy rose.

" Oh ! do not go/' pleaded the youth. " I am
not going to offend you.'*

"Northern/* said Daisy, as she stood in front
of him, "since that dreadful morning of your
accident, I have never had the heart, I have
never had the courage, to speak to you as I should
have spoken had that accident not happened. I
will not now upbraid you for your conduct : upon
me it has left a stain that can never be e&ced. I

350 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHBRS.

blame myself alone. You and I onglit never to
have met again — ^least of all imder my husband's
roof — imtil years bad obliterated the unfortunate
illusions of our youth. That we were both over-
come by temptation in an unguarded moment,
proves too surely how little dependence can be
place in resolutions, where hearts are so weak as
ours."

" Then you do love me ! you do love me I " ex-
claimed Lord Northern, springing towards the
speaker and wildly attempting te clasp her hand.

" Do not mistake me, Northern. If I am truth-
ful enough to confess to you the weakness I was
for a passing instant guilty of, it is to convince
you how deeply humiliating I have since felt
that weakness to be ; it is to convince you how
thoroughly aware I am of my own danger ; how
resolute I am to guard myself henceforth from

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 351

the risks which my own frailty and this occurrence
have so sharply impressed upon me. Yes^ iN^orth-
em ! ^' her voice softened^ imd her tears began to
flow; "it would be ftitile to conceal from you
by falsehood what you have too long known for
truth. But, dear Northern ! let us no longer be
to each other a source of perpetual trials sorrow,
imd temptation ; let us be brother and sister ; and
love each other, as we may love — ^with pure affec-
tion. Let us be one in the holy struggle for
virtue. Each will bear their lot more patiently,
knowing that it is shared by both. What need
have we to repeat assurances of the sacred tie which
may for ever subsist between usP Time can never
break the bond ; it will only bring us nearer to
that true imion of our spirits, which now and here
we have begun. Let us help each other, dear
friend, to win the only happiness that can last.

352 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

Let US wish, and do, what is right. God, who
knows our struggles, will reward them."

Sadly smiling through her tears, Lady de
Crecy then held out both her hands as if to take
a final leave of her lover. At first the yoimg
marquis took no notice of her action. He stood
as if rooted to the spot, his arms hanging by his
side, his head drooping upon his breast. The
pain of hopeless conviction sent its depressing
shock through his entire system. Suddenly, as
her noble sentiments touched a sympathetic chord,
a flow of generous feeling responded to Virtue's
summons.

" Yes ! " he exclaimed, seizing her outstretched
hands, "it shall be so! Your words have dis-
pelled the sweetest fantasy that ever beguiled the
heart of man. But the pure happiness of the
angels shall be yours. And in the desolation

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 353

which awaits me, one blessed thought will yet
sustain my spirit — I was beloved by Daisy/'
Lady de Crecy glided from the room, and the
young marquis sank upon his knees, buried his
face in his hands, and sobbed in the utmost
bitterness of despair.

When sanguine and impetuous characters like
Lord Northern's find their hopes suddenly with-
ered^ and all the brilliant schemes, on which they
have long feasted their imagination, shattered
at a blow, the violence of their collision with
adverse fortune is of course measured by the
momentum with which they run their heads

against it. But the intensity of Buffering which
ensues is often a remedy to the wounds. Pain
may be just sharp enough to paralyze voHtion :
increased by a few degrees it again becomes a
powerful stimulus to action. The state of hope-
voL. II. 23

354 THE MIDLANDS ANl) OTHEKS.

lessness to whicli Northern was reduced, the ab-
solute certainty, which had now been thrust upon
him, that Daisy de Crecy could not and would
not be his, were facts so poignantly galling that
unconsciously he began at once to cast about
for some loophole by which to escape from their
annoyance. He thought again and again of her
exhortation to Duty ; and his mind catching
something of the enthusiasm of the beautiful
preacher who had just stood before him, he felt
for the moment equal to the most heroic feats of
virtuous daring. But, alas, this attitudeW mind
was sadly uncongenial to him ; and when he con-
sidered how much this same love of virtue would
cost, his ardour to become a devotee speedily
abated. Then it was the old symptoms bega i
again to show themselves. He would tear his
hair and iume about the room, ready to swear she

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 355

should be his in spite of spite. But it was no
use raving. His better judgment told him that
although he had had his own way, pretty much
all his life, by^stamping and raving for it when
it was not otherwise to be come at, in this par-
ticular instance he had met with a will that
matched his own. He might as well try to swim
up Niagara as hope to surmoimt the obstacles
to his passionate desire.

Then he pondered over what Evans had said to
him. There was but little comfort to be got from
that. The burden of his friend's admonitions
was charged with the same discouraging tone of
morality, which, turn whither he would, balked his
violent ambition. The worldly wisdom of Evans,
his hatred of cant, the purely practical tendency
of his moral creed, gave painful importance to his
remonstrance. The notion that he — Northern—

356 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

could carry off Lord de Crecy's wife, obtain a
separation at the hands of the judge in ordinary,
and legally claim Daisy as his own, was (if Evans
were right) a shere piece of selfish infatuation ;
the only sure consequence of which woidd be,
to make her and himself miserable for life. The
concluding utterance of his friend rose before him
for the first time as a bit of advice which might
possibly, under these distressing circumstances, be
worthy of contemplation. What if he should
marry Helen Seabright P In his present frame of
mind the distant future held out no soothing pros-
pects. If immediate relief were only to be found,
he was ready to clutch at it with avidity. The
thought of engaging himself straight away to
Helen contained at once the excitement of a rash
act, and the calming influence of a prudential one.
He summoned her image before his mind's eye :

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 357

and outwardly that image was not without attrac-
tions. He reflected on her character, and felt that
if this was only negatively pleasing^ in taking her
to his wife he would, at any rate, be secure against
a thousand possible dangers, from which he could
never guard himself except by such long and per-
fect intimacy as he had enjoyed with her. Then
came the question — Would she accept him ? The
very doubt was agreeable to his present morbid
state. He actually caressed the notion of a diffi-
culty : looked about him eagerly for a rival. Froth,
Wharton, St. Kitts, Terrier, all were in love with
Helen Seabright ; all stood in his way : even the
poor curate Tartlett gave a zest to his present
purpose. The more he dwelt on Helen's charms
the easier it became to create a fictitious barrier
to his own possession of them. And flying from
one extreme to another, he resolved to crush his

358 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

Intense discomfort by rushing Instantly Into this
new scheme for happiness.

No sooner had he come to the resolution^ than
dreading lest the incitement to it should evaporate,
he hastened to carry out his purposes without th^
loss of a single hour. "With a throbbing pulse
and burning brow he left his room for the first
time for three weeks ; and forgetting the doctor's
caution to use his foot as gently as possible, de-
scended hastily to the drawing-room : ready in his
impetuosity even to send for Helen should she
not happen to be there.

It chanced that Helen, her mother, and Lady
Selina were where he sought the first of them.
They had just finished their five o'clock tea, and
were sitting round the fire with their toes upon
the fender, and gowns turned up to their knees, as
adies are wont to do when in the full enjoyment

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 359

of that peculiar Intercourse which we others
impertinently call gossip. There was a burst of
surprise and a rapid adjustment of garments when
the marquis disturbed the little party. Candles
had not yet been brought; and as the curtains
were drawn, the room was too obscure for any one
to observe how ghastly and excited Lord Northern
looked. Lady Selina proceeded at once to kiss
her brother, and the other two ladies expressed
their unfeigned delight to see him once more
restored to their society. Lady Selina presently
remarked that she thought her brother ought not
to over exert himself, as relapses were not uncom-
mon, and serious consequences often accrued after
injuries like his. Helen said that he had not
grown stouter during his confinement, and added
that she felt much aggrieved that she was not
allowed to nurse him in his illness. Mrs. Seabright

360 THE midlakhs asd othebs.

rebuked her daughter for a remark which seemed
to her of dnbioiu propriety.

'^ Well, mama,'' said Miss Helen, ^* don't nnns
attend hospitals? I suppose they're proper
enough, ain't they P *'

*' Law, my lore, how yon talk ?'' says the elder
lady. '^Itni he time enough for you to nurse
young men when you are married to one.''

These obsenrations were not much to his lord-
ship's taste. But Mrs. Seabright was not the
most refined of her sex ; nor were her remarks
always guided by the nicest sense of tact.

** Whatever you may say," added the matron,
apologetically for her daughter, "I think the
marquis is all the handsomer for his illness. It
gives him quite an interesting air."

After a few more reflections of this nature,
Lady Selina, who was always on the look out to

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 361

advance the project she had at heart, conveyed
a semaphoric intimation to Mrs. Seabright, which
that lady was at no loss to understand. The
marquis' sister was the first to leave. Mrs. Sea-
hright soon followed the example, with a plea so
lame, that even Northern smiled at the manoeuvre.
Whether Helen saw through these tactics or not,
she felt no nervousness at the situation. Both
her mother and Lady Selina had practised the
same stratagem so often before, and so often
before nothing had come of it, that she would
have felt quite at ease in a Ute^a-Ute with Lord
Northern even had her perfect intimacy with
her old playfellow not insured tranquillity.
^ The marquis however, as we know, was very
far from enjoying a like placid state of temper.
The assurance which he preeminently possessed,
in the presence of women generally, seemed of a

362 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHEBS.

sudden to desert him. The bantering condescen-
sion of an accnstomed yictor, which characterised
his usual manner with women, gave place to the
timidity of a blushing school-boy. He was in
&ct partly conscious, perhaps for the first time,
that even Helen Seabright might be too good for
him : that with all his own perfections, the manly
and faithful devotion of Wharton might upon
this crucial test prove the most attractive. When
he was indifferent to Helen's love he had naturally
never troubled his head about a rival. Now that
he had staked his happiness upon this one throw,
whatever threatened him with defeat — ^which
would leave him in a more desperate plight than
before — ^assumed the most formidable aspect.
And of all obstacles Wharton had suddenly grown
into the greatest. He felt the necessity of ex-
ploring before he brought his forces into action.

^

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS, 363

"You must have been fearfully bored/' said
Helen, " shut up there by yourself, especially as
I was not allowed to come and see you." The
opening was a good one ; but it would have been
premature as yet to take advantage of it.

"Not so bad as you suppose. It gave me
plenty of opportunity for reflection. And you
know I want a little of that sort of thing now
and then.'*

" A little ? a good deal I should say.''

*^ You think me very foolish, do you Helen P "

" Oh, I don't know ; not worse than other
people, I dare say."

"Who do you mean by other people? Do
you think I'm more foolish than St. Kitts, for
instance P "

"I never thought of making the comparison
before. Lord St. Kitts is such a jolly little fellow.

364 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

Bat you're much cleverer than him, you know.
He couldn't lecture and make speeches, and all
that sort of thing. He can ride though, first-rate ;
can't he P And he is A. 1. at dancing."

" What do you say to Froth?'^

" Bother Froth ! '^ ejaculated the young lady,
*' I hate the sight o£ him» He is the most detest-
able creature I ever met/*

" Terrier then ? "

" Ha, ha I Poor Mr. Terrier I no I don't think
you are more foolish than him.'*

" Evans P "

"Oh he^s too clever by half. I never know
whether he is laughing at me, or whether he is
paying me a compliment.'^

" "Well, who else is there P I've gone through
the whole list of other people P Let me see ! ah :
by-the-by, Wharton — what do you think of him P "

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 365

Miss Seabright's pulse jumped from a steady
seventy-five to a fluttering ninety. What did
her companion mean by this question? There
was a huskiness in his voice which her quick ear
now first took heed of.

" Mr. Wharton ? I don't know. I never bo-
thered myself much about him."

" Indeed ! " said Northern, who felt in for it
now; "I always thought you had a great liking
for him."

" Perhaps you thought wrong.*'

" Then you are not fond of Wharton ? "

" Yes I am."

" More so than of any one else ? "

" I never said that : I suppose one may like a
person, without "

" Being in love with him, eh ? "

" Why are you so inquisitive P "

366 THB KIDLAK1>S AND OTHERS.

^' Because it concerns me to know : conoems
me deeply to know."

" Really ! '' (pulse a hundred) ^' I don't see how
it can concern you."

" Nelly," (he takes her hand) " my happiness —
the happiness of my life, depends on your love.
We have been brought up as children together*
We have — that is — ^you know how fond I have
always been of you. You may have thought
lately that I — ^that I did not show so much feel-
ing as — as I really possessed. But you never
can have doubted that I loved you. Yes, dearest !
loved you devotedly — passionately — as I do now.
Nelly, darling, will you be my wife P "

Miss Seabright (whose pulse is now quite
uncountable) mutters the simple monosyllable
" Yes."

'' Thank God ! Bless you, dearest. Bless you !

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 367

If you only knew what a load you haye removed
from my mind ! We shall be so happy. I see
a new life, new hopes, opening out before me.
And you, Nelly? you do love me, don't you,
dearest P ''

" Yes,'' and the usual accompaniments follow.
"But I did not expect it," says Miss Helen,
smiling archly. " Do you know, I was a&aid you
were captivated with somebody else, Northern."

"Did you, dear? you won't think that any
more, will you ? "

" No, certainly not. We shall be so awfully
jolly, shan't we P "

" We shall indeed."

" How astonished they will be, won't they P "
says Miss Nell.

" We don't care what they think, dear. We
are all in all to each other."

368 THE MIDLANDS AlO) OTHERS.

" Yea, but it does seem so funny. I do so long
to tell papa ; and poor dear mother will be wild
with deUght."

" Everybody will be glad," says his lordship,
thinking with a shudder of Daisy de Crecy.

" Oh yes, everybody," echoes Miss Seabright,
with a sudden vision of the engineer. '' But I
shall never have the courage to announce it.''
" Heavens ! " thought the young lady, '« what will
Miss Mumford think of me! What an idiot
I was, to write her that last letter."

" Perhaps," said Northern after a pause, during
which each began to discount the ecstasy of their
bliss, *' perhaps it would be as well for the pre-
sent if we did say nothing about it. It is such
a bore having everybody buzzing about one with
stupid congratulations. Don't you think so your-
self, NeUy?"

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 369

"Yes," said she, "I quite agree with you."
" If," were her thoughts, " I only have time to
prepare Miss Mumford, and let her break it to
poor Wharton, it won't so much matter." She
then added aloud, ''I will just tell papa and
mama, and then we'll keep it dark from every
soul else."

"Yes,*' rejoins the marquis, "you must tell
them I suppose ; though I am afraid your mother
will never keep the secret."

" I think she will, if I make her promise."

After another pause, " Perhaps after all, dear
Nelly," Lord Northern said, " it will be safest not
to mention it to any one just yet— -not till we leave
Tinselby, say. You won't mind, dearest, with-
holding the news for two days more, will you ? "

" Not a bit, if you particularly wish it. Papa
is the only one I should like just to whisper it to.'

VOL. II. 24

370 THB MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

*' We U upon the whole I would rather not. No,
I'd rather not. You'll promise me then, darling,
you will not mention it to anyone P "

" Yes.''

''So then, we'll behaye exactly the same as
ever when others are present, eh P "

« All right."

'' So as not to let anyone have a suspicion of
the truth."

" Very well."

'' Dear Helen ! 'tis so nice of you giving in to
my whim about this. But it will only be for a
couple of days. And after that you can — we
can do as we like about it."

The betrothed pair parted with a tender em-
brace. When Helen was alone^ the eyents of the
last half hour seemed so strange to her that she
could hardly tell whether she was happy or not.

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 371

Bewildering thoughts of becoming shortly a
marchioness and eyentually a duchess, of reign-
ing supreme at Tramways, mistress of the castle,
— the castle, carriages, horses, footmen, London
mansions, dinners, balls, boxes at the opera, court,
millinery, diamonds, etc., tour on the continent,
cruise in the yacht, season at Paris, more mU-
linery, more diamonds, more etc., all jostled one
another in rapidest succession. Then, in the coarse
of the foreign trip, Miss Helen happened to pass
through the capital of a certain district in Bhenish
Prussia : much to her discomfort, she there fell in
with a certain English gentleman engaged in some
engineering operations for the Prussian govern-
ment. The scene which took place at this ren-
counter (as the young lady pictured it to herself)
was not calculated to leave an agreeable impression
upon her memory. Bitter but dignified reproaches

372 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

on the part of the gentleman, consciousness of
levity of conduct on her own, formed the principal
features of this incident of travel. And not being
absolutely without tenderness of heart and recti-
tude of principle, Miss Helen had great difficulty
in dispelling these painful images by recurrence
to the pleasurable ones we have above alluded to.
In truth, the good and the evil of her situation
were so nearly balanced that she could not as yet
foresee which would ultimately prevail.

As to the noble marquis, it is easy enough to
imagine what his feelings were. He had taken
the plunge on purely hygienic principles. But
there can be little doubt that he found the bath
most desperately chilly; and, judging by that after
thought of secrecy for which he was so con-
foimdedly anxious, it is evident that he was no
sooner in the scrape than he began to wist
himself out again.

THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS. 373

Lord Northern did not remain at Tinselby so
long even as he had intended. Business of an
urgent nature (so he informed Miss Seabright)
compelled him to take the first train in the
morning to London.

" I will write" (the communication was con-
veyed in a brief note, for the writer was off before
breakfast and had no opportunity of meeting
his fiancee) ; " I will write directly I get to town.
Meanwhile let me repeat, most earnestly, the re-
quest I made last night, that you will on no account
divulge our secret to any living soul until you
have my authority for so doing. I am afraid, dear
Helen, you will consider this injunction rather
whimsical: but you must humour me uow, for
you know you will have it all your own way
when we are married."

Curiously enough. Miss Seabright was not vexed
by the obligation imposed upon her.

374 THE MIDLANDS AND OTHERS.

It remains to be stated that as Lady de Oreoy
pleaded indisposition and did not appear at
the dinner-table on the evening preceding the
^narquis' departure^ she and Lord Northern did
not meet again. She learnt from Mrs. Tucker the
£rst thing next morning that he was gone. She
was not altogether surprised at the intelligence.
And though a deep sigh involimtarily escaped
her, on the whole she experienced a sense of
relief resembling that of a patient soon after a
painful operation. Neither Lady de Orecy nor
anyone in the house had the faintest surmise of
what had transpired. Helen persevered in her
reticence with the utmost fidelity. And, as we
shall see in the sequel, some time had yet to
elapse before this important secret was promul-
gated to the world at large.

END OF VOL. II.

^^